


Purgatory Stars

by waterbird13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, M/M, Purgatory, Temporary Character Death, Vampirism, Violence, bood drinking, show-level violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam decides Benny deserves a second chance at life. Once he makes that decision, nothing is going to stand in his way, least of all a little trip to Purgatory. Surviving and escaping Purgatory is hard enough, but Sam also has to convince an unsure Benny to come back with him  at all. On top of that, Sam has to prepare for the uncertainty of what's waiting for him when he gets back to Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Purgatory

**Author's Note:**

> My first Big Bang! I hope you all like it.
> 
> General warnings for Sam/Benny, vampirism and temporary vampirism, show-level violence, blood and blood drinking, purgatory, and temporary death. I think that should be it.
> 
> Thank you to my beta, Carry-on-my-wayward-heart, who did a great job helping me get this work into shape.
> 
> And huge thank you to Quickreaver, who did all the phenomenal art for this and just completely blew my mind with how wonderful it all is. This project would not have been a tenth of what it is without you, thank you so much.

Purgatory Stars

Art by Quickreaver [here](http://quickreaver.livejournal.com/111298.html).

__

 

_I killed Benny to save you_.

              It has been years since Dean had actually said those words, but every time Dean mentions his vampiric surrogate brother, Sam feels the same reproach in his words, like it’s his fault Benny is gone.

              Dean doesn’t mention Benny so explicitly any more. Like so many other people of their past, he becomes something they talk about as little as possible, fading away into the ether, one more haunting memory. But that doesn’t mean he never gets brought up. It’s like a punch to the gut every time it happens.

              This time it’s simple. Dean’s had one too many shots and he sets off to reminiscing. Sam supposes Dean being drunk and reminiscing about the past is preferable to Dean being drunk and angry, or maudlin, or any other emotion, really. But it doesn’t mean it’s fun. It’s painful to listen to, actually.

              It’s been a while since he talked about Benny, though, and the name of the vampire Sam left behind-- _I killed Benny to save you_ \--feels like a punch to the gut.

              He gets Dean back to the bunker from the bar and pretends to keep listening while Dean continues to talk. He gets Dean to bed and closes his bedroom door, and then goes down to the kitchen and pours himself just a little whiskey.

              Tonight, he was the designated driver, but now there’s nowhere to drive to, so he figures he can have a bit.

              He sticks to just a little bit, sitting in the poorly-lit library, glass in one hand. He stares at a bookshelf and just thinks.

              He doesn’t necessarily mean to think about Benny, and Purgatory, but his mind strays there regardless, and he would need a lot more alcohol to numb the direction his thoughts take.

_How hard can it be?_ After all, he himself had made it in and out of Purgatory before. They knew they could take someone out. He could have gotten Benny out last time if Benny hadn’t insisted on staying.

              Perhaps Benny will still refuse to leave. Perhaps Benny really _does_ prefer Purgatory, instead of that preference being born out of some stupid idiotic loneliness on Earth. But Sam has a strong suspicion that, if he tells Benny that this time will be different, that he’ll be welcome at the Bunker with Dean and Sam won’t say a word of protest, he can get Benny to come back.

              Now it’s just a matter of finding a way in.

            It turns out that the Reaper/Coyote business has dried up a bit, and none of the remaining ones seem at all willing to even consider doing business with a Winchester, not after what Crowley did to Ajay. Sam’s protests that he doesn’t want anywhere near hell fall on deaf ears, and he supposes he can’t blame them. They’d be letting him near the backdoor, and that would piss off the Hell Powers That Be, and they simply aren’t willing to risk that again.

              It’s a little bit frustrating, but Sam isn’t discouraged. It would take more than some reluctant Reapers to stop Sam Winchester once he sets his mind to something.

              So he starts in on the massive library he has at his disposal. He doesn’t really know where to start even though he’s updated the cataloguing for the entire system and maintains every book himself. _Purgatory_ is mostly an abstract concept in these books, a religious metaphor and not an actual place where the supernatural get sent.

              Still, he recalls a handful of books and reads them all once, twice, then skims them a third time just to be sure. There’s nothing valuable there, nothing at all beyond the admittance that it _might_ be a place that no human--certainly no Man of Letters--had ever or likely would ever lay eyes on.

              He reads a dozen other books besides the ones on his list, just in case there is something he missed. There isn’t.

              He can go back to hunting for a reaper willing to take him over to Purgatory. He could scour the entire globe for one. It’s a tempting thought—something methodical, something that takes just enough effort and concentration to keep him busy—but he knows it likely won’t be a particularly rewarding avenue, so he sets it aside until a last resort.

              He waits until Dean is out one afternoon before going to Cas. Cas, who is millennia old and is a fountain of knowledge, in and of himself. Cas, who knows Purgatory quite well. He’s the best resource left to Sam.

              Cas is in the library, and Sam plops into the chair next to him.

              “What do you know about Purgatory?” Sam asks.

              Cas turns towards him very, very slowly. “Why do you need to know about Purgatory?”

              “Because I’m going back in,” Sam says. “I’m going to find Benny.”

              “Why?” Cas asks. “Purgatory is where Benny belongs. You said he came to that realization himself.”

              “Benny wanted to stay so he wouldn’t be alone,” Sam says heavily. “And he wouldn’t have to be. This time. I won’t say a word against him staying. He can stay here, he and Dean can be best pals—brothers, whatever—again. He might—he might fit in better, this time. He won’t be alone, at least, if he comes.”

              “Why are you doing this?” Cas asks. “Benny was Dean’s friend. Not yours You don’t owe him anything, Sam.”

              “He died to save me,” Sam says quietly. “And…he deserves another shot. He really was a good monster, I guess.” He straightens up, pulls himself back together. “Now. Purgatory.”

              “I can’t help you,” Cas says.

              “But you--”

              “I know how to open it. You know that, you know what I know. I know how to take souls from it, although I’d caution against trying it,” Cas says wryly. “I don’t know anything else. My interest was never going to Purgatory. It was always removing souls. My own arrival was an accident, my leaving due to angelic intervention.” He pauses a moment. “Have you tried the Reapers?”

              “They won’t deal with me,” Sam says hollowly. “The ones that are still left in the trade won’t come near a Winchester with a ten foot pole. Not after what Crowley did to the last Reaper who helped us. Not to mention our track record with Reapers in general,” Sam says. “I could look, search every Reaper. Hang out at hospitals, wait for people to die and see what their Reapers say. But…it doesn’t look promising.”

              “And you’ve read the books here?” Cas muses. Sam nods. “Well, then. I don’t know what to say, Sam. I can offer you no more than that.” He pauses. “Perhaps you should forget this. From what I remember, Benny survived just fine in Purgatory. And it is not your job to save him.”

              Sam stands up. “I’ll find a way,” he promises.

 

              He does find a way, ultimately. It takes a week and a half to figure it out and another month to plan it all out after that.

              None of it is particularly difficult. Sam can barely believe how long it took for all the pieces to click into place, but, really, once he gets the basic idea, what he has to do is obvious. From there, it’s just thorough planning, thinking of contingencies and options, making sure he’s accounted for everything possible.

              Convincing Cas to go along with it takes the longest.

              “I know you are…self-sacrificial…and sometimes stupid…but this seems like a great risk, even for you.”

              Sam shrugs. “No worse than anything else I’ve done.”

              “Yes, but the fate of the world doesn’t depend on this. Lucifer and Michael are not going to destroy humanity. One vampire will remain in Purgatory, which God created to house such creatures. Why would you risk this?”

              Sam shrugs uncomfortably. It’s really not entirely explainable, anymore. Sure, he wanted to do it for Dean, and to take himself out of Benny’s debt. But Cas is right. This is going very far, perhaps too far, for such a goal.

              Still, he’s started this, and he can’t abandon it, not now that he’s close, not now that there’s a plan in the works, a feasible one that will offer the desired results if only he has the guts to try.

              Well, the guts to try and the crucial help from Cas.

              “Look, Cas. I have a plan. If I stick to it, everything will go fine.”

              “And what if something prevents you from _sticking to it_?” Cas asks. “Things outside of your control will occur. And one little thing could ruin your plan and then you would be left in Purgatory to rot.”

              Sam shrugs. “Look, my other option was staking a Leviathan in the neck. But we’re fresh out, so I went with this instead. A few extra steps, but still workable.”

              “A few…?” Cas says incredulously. “Sam, have you actually thought about what you’re saying? You are discussing…”

              “I know what I’m talking about,” Sam retorts. “I looked at every angle of this. It will work. I’ll have everything I need in Purgatory. If you help me.”

              Cas doesn’t give in right away, but Sam’s persistence wins out. Which means Sam just has to watch the newspapers and websites, looking for the right type of case to pop up.

              It takes him two weeks to find the right case, but as soon as he sees the signs in the article, he calls Cas up and the two of them set out, taking a car from the Bunker garage and driving to Illinois.

              Illinois is a mess of five dead bodies but they manage to stop the vampire before there can be a sixth. Sam keeps a whole slew of shots of dead man’s blood, but he’s hoping they can get this over with fast enough that he’ll only need one.

              The vampire is easy enough to manhandle once he’s out of it because of the dead man’s blood, so it doesn’t take much effort for Sam and Cas to get him back to the motel room. Sam shoves a towel into the vampire’s mouth to serve as a gag, just in case he comes out of his stupor enough to make noises that might alert the neighbors. Sam doesn’t need the cops poking around, causing problems and delaying his plans. Cas gets the chains from the duffle bag, carefully taken from the Bunker’s dungeon.

              From there, it’s not that hard. Sam grabs a knife and slices into the arm of the vampire, carefully gathering the flowing blood into a cup.

              The vampire makes a noise of protest. “Not so pleasant when someone’s bleeding you dry, huh?” Sam asks, but he supposes he doesn’t have much room to talk, given his history. The vampire makes another noise but the gag muffles any distinction in the sounds.

              “Ready?” Sam asks once he’s sure the cup is suitably full.

              Cas has replaced Sam’s cup with another, and Sam thinks in the back of his mind that he should go get his wallet and leave a few bucks so the motel can replace the glasses. Then again, by the time this is done there will be a good deal of blood everywhere, so a few bucks really isn’t going to make a difference, and a couple glasses will be the least of the motel’s problems.

              Cas watches the blood continue to flow studiously. “Sam, are you…”

              “I’m still sure, Cas,” Sam says. “That gonna be enough?”

              Cas shrugs. “Maybe a little more. Give it another minute.”

              “Are you stalling?”

              Cas turns on him, something akin to fury in his eyes, although he’s careful not to jostle the cup. “I am trying to do everything in my power to ensure that you do not end up stranded in Purgatory. Let me make sure we are prepared; be patient.”

              Sam nods resignedly and goes to his bag, pulling out the machete and leaving it on the bed. He grabs some towels from the bathroom, figuring that he can minimize the mess if they’re careful. It’ll be nicer for the motel staff and bloody motel rooms tend to attract police attention they can’t afford, anyways.

              Cas seems to finish just as Sam does, pulling the cup away, looking satisfied, if still a bit troubled. “Alright. This should…this is what I need. Now…are you sure?”

              “Yes,” Sam insists, although his gut is churning. He’s about to—he can’t even think on it.

_You’re a monster, Sam—a vampire. You’re not you anymore. And there’s no going back._

              Sam grimaces, because soon enough it will all be even more true, although he’s been thorough enough in his planning that he still thinks—still hopes—that there’s a way back.

              Sam raises the glass of blood in a mocking toast and drinks it down as fast as possible.

              It’s different than demon blood. It tastes as gross as blood should without any of the tang of demon blood, the sweet, addictive quality that led Sam to Ruby again and again.

              He sets the glass aside and feels the blood hit his system, knows it’s enough to begin the change immediately.

              Cas and the vampire are both watching him with wide eyes, shock and fear mingled on their faces.

              “How long should we wait?” Sam asks.

              Cas’ eyes widen further. “You’re asking me? I thought you had this all planned out?”

              “Yeah, well, I’m not sure of the exact time where I’ll switch from human to monster, alright? Give it an hour?”

              Cas shrugs. “If you feel it best. What would—how would you like to spend it?”

              Sam knows Cas is carefully not mentioning it being his _last_ hour, but he figures he’s already swallowed the tainted blood, so he’d a dead man at this point either way.

              Sam closes his eyes for a moment. “Let me write a letter for my brother,” Sam says. “In case…in case it goes wrong. You can give it to him.”

              “Sam…nothing is going to go wrong. We will get you back.”

              Sam manages to crack a smile. “Now you have faith.”

              Cas looks at him with a piercing gaze. “ _Now_ it is of the utmost importance that everything works. I will not lose you to this, Sam. You will come back.”

              “Thank you,” Sam says. “I’m just…going to write it anyways, alright? Make me feel better.”

              There’s a pen and paper in the desk, and Sam thinks what could possibly be his last communication with his brother shouldn’t be written on cheap paper with a crappy motel letterhead, but it’s what he has so he makes due.

_Dean—_

_I went after Benny. It doesn’t matter why, or how. But I did. And if Cas gave you this, it means I’m not coming back. Something went wrong. Sorry._

_Don’t come after me. Don’t make deals for me. Don’t try to find a way into Purgatory or anything else. I don’t care what you do, just keep living and leave me be. It’s time, Dean, okay?_

_Sorry it went this way, sorry this is all I can give you in goodbye._

_\--Sam_

              Sam folds it in half, then half again. He thinks he should have more to say than half a piece of paper, but that’s really all there is to it. Everything else should be said to Dean’s face, and none of it should be left as parting words. Keeping Dean from following him is really the most important thing.

              It takes a grand total of fifteen minutes to finish the note, but by the time Sam hands it to Cas, the dim lighting of the motel room is already feeling like it’s a thousand times brighter. He’s hearing things, noises from the next room, the street, things he shouldn’t be able to hear. He stumbles over to the mirror and pulls his lip up.

              “Well, guess that was long enough,” Sam announces. “Change is happening already.”

              Cas looks over. “Oh.”

              “Yeah,” Sam says. “Well, you clear on everything?”

              “We’ve been over this, Sam,” Cas says quietly. “I know the plan. Are you…ready?”

              “Think so,” Sam says. “Just…remember, keep this quiet from Dean for as long as you can.”

              “I know,” Cas says.

              “And…remember, kill that bastard, and then re-attach my head. Not much use if I don’t have a body to come back to.”

              “I know,” Cas repeats. “Sam? Be…be as quick as you can. I don’t like the idea of not knowing what’s happening.”

              “Do my best, Cas,” Sam says.

              He’s starting to feel it in his throat. The vampire isn’t a viable target and Cas isn’t really either, but it will only be so long before the smells of the next room start to tempt him. “Cas? I think we need to do this now.”

              Cas nods. “Alright. Close your eyes.”

              Sam obeys, knowing this will be easier if he doesn’t flinch, if Cas doesn’t have to look into his eyes as he does it. “Cas? Thank you.”

              “Thank me when you come back,” Cas says, and then there’s a moment of blinding pain, and then nothing else.

 

              Sam wakes up in the desolate territory of Purgatory. He’s disoriented for only a moment before everything comes back to him, and then he’s on his feet.

              He wishes he had the advantage of coming into Purgatory bodily. Then he could have brought in everything he needed, including weapons. As it is, he’s the remnants of a soul just like every other creature here, and he’s unarmed.

              His senses are on high alert, and not just because he’s in a hostile environment. He can’t make his fangs retract, doesn’t have that sort of control yet. Everything is sharper—scents, sounds, sights. Too sharp, in fact. It hurts, he can’t make sense of it—

_Wham_.

              He should have seen them coming, even as a human he would have seen them coming, but he’s so incredibly overwhelmed and now he’s on his back, monster over him.

              Something inside Sam says _werewolf_ , which isn’t that much help considering he doesn’t have a gun, never mind silver bullets.

              The creature over him freezes. “Winchester?” it asks uncertainly.

              That’s all the time needed for Sam’s body to take over. He moves faster than should be possible and has the werewolf’s neck broken in seconds, pushing the limp body off of him and rolling to a crouch, waiting for more attacks.

              None come, and Sam tries to make his senses settle enough to be useable. He doesn’t hear or smell anyone coming too close, and thinks the werewolf was working alone.

              He turns to the body, searching it for weapons, and manages to pull a knife from the belt of the werewolf.

              He tucks it into his own belt and then backs away real fast, because even werewolf blood is starting to smell tempting. Sam must not drink. He can’t. Everything hinges on his ability to control himself. He knows this. But the transition is making everything harder.

              He moves away, as silently as he can, wondering how best to go about finding Benny.

              He remembers Purgatory, of course he does—his memory of the place had been crucial to forming his plan—but Purgatory is kind of like hell in that it feels so incredibly _different_ than being on earth. He’d nearly forgotten that feeling.

            He’s thirsty, so incredibly thirsty, only it burns worse that any parched throat he’s ever had before. He swallows his own spit, but it does nothing, and he’s still left with this ache, this desperation needing to be filled.

            There’s a crack and this time Sam is prepared for what’s to come, and manages to get his knife out before he’s set upon.

            There’re six, maybe seven of them, and Sam’s moving before he has time to really consider.

            New vampires don’t have the strength or skill of their older counterparts but Sam is a hunter, trained since childhood, and he’s smarter than his attackers. And he’s driven by the _need_ for blood, to rip into throats and veins, to get at what he can smell, even from here.

            He doesn’t stop fighting to take a drink, just slashes and stabs, kicks and punches until he’s staring down the last of the attacking party.

            Sam feints left, dodges right, slashes deep at the neck. The blood is spilling out, and it doesn’t smell quite right but it smells good enough, and he’s safe enough to go for it now, can’t think of why he wouldn’t—

            He’s yanked back and the knife is forced from his hand. He begins to assault his attacker but whoever he is has a strong grip and refuses to let go, no matter what Sam hits him with. They just keep yanking Sam backwards, away from the massacre, away from the blood.

            “Calm down, Winchester,” his captor says once Sam is stable enough to hear him. “Don’t even want that blood anyway. Pre-used, nutrient deprived. All smell, no substance. Calm down.”

            Sam relaxes. “Benny? Benny, let me go.”

            “Not when you’re gonna go back to that. Made a hell of a lot of noise, I'm not gonna be the only one to come for ya. C’mon. We’re going this way, an’ you can explain what fool thing you’ve done.”

            It’s a little copse of trees on a small hill, well-sheltered with the advantage of higher ground and if Sam weren’t half out of his mind he’d be impressed.

            “How’d—how’d you find me?” he asks.

            “Word gets ‘round fast here,” Benny says. “Rumor was another Winchester came through today. People remember how that went last time. You mighta noticed the ones coming after you, take you out before you get acclimated.”

            “Bet you thought it was Dean. Sorry to disappoint.”

            “Disappointed to find either of you here, Sam. You’re gonna explain. After.”

            “After what?” Sam asks hazily.

            Benny sets Sam against the tree and moves in front of him, still boxing him in. It’s the first time Sam’s seen his face. He looks about the same as he did when Sam last saw him, but infinitely more concerned.

            “You have no idea what’s happening, do you?” Benny asks.

            “‘Course I do,” Sam says. “Planned this, didn’t I?”

            “You _planned_ this?” Benny asks. “God, what you were thinkin’. You’re changing, Sam. It’s gonna hurt. It’s gonna feel confusing, and it’ll all be too much, and you’ll wanna die for a bit. Then the bloodlust will set in.”

            “Already has,” Sam says.

            Benny grins, a thin, tight, unamused line. “Oh, brother, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Now, I ain’t ever seen a newborn vamp here in Purgatory, but I imagine you’ll go through the change, like the rest of us did. Then…hopin’ things’ll settle for you, like they did the rest of us. Thirst is easier here, in Purgatory. So you have that to look forward to.”

            Sam reaches out a shaky hand, fisting it in Benny’s coat. “Benny…” he says, trying to instill importance in his voice, but even he can hear how weak it is. “Benny… you can’t let me drink. Don’t care how much I need it. You can’t.”

            Benny’s brow furrows. “I’ll stop you from pickin’ fights you can’t win, but you’re gonna need it, Sam. This is Purgatory. No more rules, no more morals. No more hunters. Just us monsters for miles, and you’re gonna have to live like us.”

            “ _No_ ,” Sam insists. “Can’t…drink. Can’t. Can’t change back if I do.”

            Benny’s brow furrows. “Change back? Sam, what’re you on about? Sam?”

            Sam doesn’t answer, the sound of Benny’s voice becoming too much. He tries to hold in a whimper, isn’t sure if he succeeds, and then blessedly passes out.

 

            He wakes up to blinding light and moans.

            “Shhh,” Benny says. “S’not too bad. Won’t burn you or anythin’, You’re just sensitive, right now. How you feelin’?”

            Sam groans again. Benny shifts above him, blocking a little more of the light, and that helps.

            “There ya go.”

            “Thanks,” Sam says, voice raspy and dry.

            Benny frowns. “You need blood, Sam.”

            “No.”

            “You need it. Like it or not, it’s food, water, life for you now. How’d you—become one of us—anyways?”

            “Drank a glass full of vampire blood,” Sam says. “So Cas could chop off my head and I’d end up here.”

            “Why?” Benny asks sharply.

            “For you. To offer you a chance, to come back.”

            “I told you,” Benny says. “I’m better off here.”

            “Wouldn’t you be better off, with Dean?” Sam asks. His throat feels like sandpaper but he doesn’t stop, because Benny needs to understand enough to help him or this will go nowhere. “Not on your own, not fighting it on your own. With us, with Dean. We got a place, Benny. Like a house. Plenty of space. Won’t throw you out or anything.”

            Benny’s eyes narrow. “Why are you doin’ this?”

            “Because Dean needs you,” Sam says, “and you deserve better.”

            “I’m a vampire.”

            “So am I,” Sam says. “So what do you say we both get outta here?”

            “Take it you got some sort of plan?”

            “Of course,” Sam says. He struggles to sit up. “We need to move. This thirst—it’s only gonna get worse, and I—we—need to cure me before it gets so bad even you can’t stop me.” He looks Benny in the eye. “Stop me. No matter what. Or else we’re both stuck here.”

            “Alright,” Benny says quietly. “Lemme help you up.”

            He gives Sam a hand and lets Sam lean on him, shaky on his feet as he is.

            “What do we need?” Benny asks.

            Sam lists off a half dozen plants he knows can be found in Purgatory.

            “Gonna have to tell me what those look like,” Benny says. “Anything else?”

            “Blood of my creator,” Sam says.

            Benny raises an eyebrow. “And how do you suggest we find that?”

            “If everything went to plan…Cas shoulda taken his head off as soon as he finished with me. He should be here too,” Sma explains.

            Benny gives up on Sam staying strictly upright and wraps an arm around Sam, offering support. “Fine. We find that stuff, we find him. Then what?”

            “It makes a cure,” Sam says. “As long as I don’t drink, I’m still half-human, and the cure will work. It’ll cure my soul and I’ll be human and I can carry both of us out.”

            “And then?”

            Sam shrugs. “Cas puts my soul back in the body that he healed, I dig up you, do the ritual, all done.”

            Benny nods. “Sam,” he says, “I never said I’d go back with you.”

            Sam does his best to turn on him, although his head just lolls a bit. “What? I--”

            “Listen,” Benny says impatiently. “I’m gonna help you get this cure. Gonna help you find the portal if it appears, gonna help you get out. ‘Course I am, you don’t belong here. But don’t ask me to decide, right this minute, if I’m leavin’ with you or not. I’m used to this. It’s rough, in the world out there, I haven’t forgotten yet. Let me think.”

            “Okay,” Sam says raspily. They don’t speak for a moment, until Sam raises a shaking hand and says, “that one.”

            Sam stands shakily on his own while Benny bends down to cut the plant off at the base. “How many we need?” he asks.

            “Grab two. Just in case.”

            Benny does, and while he’s cutting the second one, Sam smells it. Blood. Close, very close, already leaking from a weakening body, easy prey, really.

            Shifter blood, he thinks, although he doesn’t know how he knows that. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s already moving towards the one thing that can quench his absolutely desperate thirst.

            “Oh, no you don’t,” Benny grunts, knocking Sam to the ground, pinning him with his whole body. “No blood, remember? For your cure.”

            Sam remembers, it just doesn’t seem particularly important. But their actions made noise, a lot of noise, and even the bleeding shifter seems alert enough to process that, because the scent moves away.

            Benny lets Sam up slowly but doesn’t move away from him. “Got your plants,” he says gruffly. “And we need to move along ‘fore someone else comes to check that noise out.”

            Sam nods, the scent far enough away for some level of reason to resurface. He leans on Benny again, and the two of them start moving.

            The plants aren’t hard to find but it does require some walking, which Sam isn’t really up to, so it takes some time. They’re mostly quiet, but after the third plant, Benny breaks the silence.

            “Tell me ‘bout your creator. So I know what to look for.”

            “Big as me,” Sam says. “White. Black hair. Real small eyes. Got this weird, sharp-looking nose.”

            “Okay,” Benny says. “Keep an eye out. We get a chance at him, we take it. How’re you feeling?”

            “Thirsty,” Sam says honestly.

            “Besides that.”

            Sam shrugs. “Better. Still messed up, but…I think it’s the thirst. Things are starting to make sense. Not be too much. I can…things feel right again.”

            Benny nods. “Well, that’s one good thing. Things are moving along. Your thirst might settle, too, ‘cause this is Purgatory. Then again, you never drank at all, so what the hell do I know. You’re not even a real vampire.”

            “That one,” Sam interrupts, pointing to the fourth plant. “Leaves.”

            Benny grabs three or four and they start walking again.

            “They’re…leaving us alone,” Sam notes. “Think they’re planning something?”

            “No,” Benny says. “Word got around. You’re a Winchester. Even weak as you are, that still means something. And I’m…well, I’ve killed my share. You an’ me together, they’re afraid to mess with us.”

            “Good,” Sam says, swaying a bit. Benny tightens his grip.

            “That one,” he says, relieved that they’re almost done with this, even if this is the easiest part of the whole plan.

            “How’d you know these would all be here?” Benny asks as they look for the sixth and final plant.

            Sam shrugs. “Pay attention.”

            “No one remembers that much.”

            “I do.”

            Benny grins. “Well, guess that saved your ass. Or gave you the idea for this stupid plan in the first place.”

            “It was all a…calculated risk,” Sam says.

            Benny snorts. “Sure thing. See it yet?”

            “Not yet—there,” Sam says sharply.

            Benny looks around. “Where?”

            “Not the plant,” Sam says. “I smell…I smell my creator. I recognize it. From the motel. I think…he’s that way,” he points.

            Benny sniffs. “‘Bout quarter of a mile,” Benny says. “And not alone. Not in danger—found friends already,” he says. “We goin’ after him?”

            Sam nods, and they take off like participants in a three-legged race, slow and wobbly and not in any way in form to take down a threatening vampire and his friends.

            “Sam, they’re getting away. Outpacin’ us by a fair bit.”

            “I know.”

            “We need to re-group.”

            Sam knows that too, although he wants to insist on chasing that vampire until the ends of the earth. But it’s no use, not at this juncture.

            “I’ve caught his scent,” Benny says comfortingly. “If we get close again, I’ll know.”

            “There,” Sam says dully. “I see it—the last plant. Just the petals.”

            Benny gathers the petals, pulling an entire set off of one flower.

            “Might as well grind this down,” Sam mutters. “Got time.”

            He finds a couple rocks approximating the shapes he needs to make mortar and pestle, so he sits down and carefully grinds each substance down. It’s not a fine powder like he would have found in the Campbell family stores or the Bunker’s collections, but it will do just fine, as long as they don’t lose it.

            “Pocket?” Benny suggests. “Keep it mostly secure, right?”

            Sam nods and concedes that it’s probably his best option and dumps the mixture into his pocket.

            “My soul is wearing jeans,” he muses.

            Benny grins. “Guess so. Weird, ain’t it? Anyways…why don’t you get some rest?”

            “Not gonna wake up and feel all better,” Sam says.

            “You might,” Benny says. “You might hit the calm of Purgatory, for all I know. Either way, give us time to shore up energy, regroup, think this through. Safe enough here, I’ll keep watch.”

            Sam nods and lies down, facing Benny. Benny looks at him a moment before clearing his throat. “This cure, uh…”

            Sam shakes his head. “Won’t work,” he says. “Can’t have ever tasted human blood.”

            “Oh,” Benny says. “Yeah. Figured. ‘S’okay. Used to bein’ a vampire now. Get some sleep, Sam.”

            Sam’s exhausted, but exhaustion itself is not enough to make him close his eyes, not in such a hostile environment. But he trusts Benny to have his back, to keep watch like he said, so he closes his eyes and drifts off into an uneasy, pain-filled sleep.

 

            Sam wakes to a pained yell, tries to sit up suddenly but fails to do so.

            The yell cuts off, and Sam looks wildly around to find Benny, who, it turns out, has another vampire by the throat, squeezing tightly and holding the smaller vampire a few inches off the ground.

            Benny looks over at Sam. “Good, you’re awake,” he says like he has coffee and donuts and not a vampire in his hands. “Pleased to note I kept this from gettin’ bloody,” he says conversationally. “Anyway, think my friend here is just ‘bout to tell me where your creator and his friends are bunkin’ down. That right?” he asks, directed at the vampire in his grip.

            The vampire makes a motion that may be a nod, so Benny sets him down and eases his grip. “Start talkin’,” he instructs.

              The vampire snarls but doesn't make a move to attack, evidently wary of Benny. "It's his nest," the vampire says. "Hear he was the last alive, now they're all together, him and his mate and their nest. You know that rocky pass between the hills? They were holed up there before the vamp got here, don't see why they won't go back." He takes a deep breath. "You said you'd let me go."

              Benny grins ferally. "I did say that, didn't I? Well…" He moves to lunge forward but stops, looks back at Sam and seems to change his mind. "Go on, then. Fast, before I change my mind. Don't let me are you again—this is a limited-time offer, get me?"

              The vampire scurries away and doesn't offer any sort of response.

              "Well," Benny says, walking back to Sam. "We know that much now, at least. Gonna be a hell of a walk, with you like this. How you feelin' today, by the way?"

              Sam shrugs. "'Bout the same?"

              Benny nods. "Got it. Desperate and in pain. Ready to get movin', or do you need more time?"

              "Guess we should go," Sam says. He flushes. "Help me up?"

              Benny does, carefully getting Sam on his feet. He doesn't let go of him, just keeps an arm around Sam's waist and starts walking.

              "What you need is a distraction," Benny says. "How's your throat?"

              "Raw."

              "I'll do most of the talking, then," Benny says cheerfully. "Hmmm, what should we talk 'bout?"

              Sam shrugs.

            “See, trouble is, think I wanna hear from you more than you wanna hear from me,” Benny continues. “But I’ll find somethin’. Hey, maybe you’d like to hear ‘bout when I worked at the restaurant.”

            Sam doesn’t particularly, but it’s better than hearing about Benny slaughtering humans or even Purgatory monsters, so he doesn’t interrupt.

            Benny spins a tale of the customers and the cooking and the simple joy of it all, of days with Elizabeth and being back with family, even if they didn’t know each other before that day he walked into her kitchen. It’s soothing, Sam finds, to listen to Benny talk, and it’s distracting enough that the thought of the thirst isn’t as all-consuming as it was before.

            “Don’t suppose you know what happened to her,” Benny says quietly, trailing off towards the end of a particularly long story regarding a particularly bad pecan pie.

            “She’s fine,” Sam says quietly. Benny looks at him in askance, and Sam shrugs. “Keep my eye on places we worked, people we worked with. Nothing bad happened. She’s fine.” Sam doesn’t know too much, really. He hasn’t been keeping track of her specifically, just the town. Still, he can at least assure Benny she’s alive and her business is still surviving.

            “Maybe if I go back with you, I can check up on her. Not go back--I know I scared her, don’t need to scare her more. Just...stop into town, make sure she’s good. She’s family, Sam. All that’s left.”

            Sam looks at Benny. He doesn’t say anything, but Benny seems to understand. “Still if, Sam. Not gonna lie to you. Haven’t made up my mind.”

            He pauses for a moment, studying their surroundings, before continuing. “You must think I’m crazy. Wanting to stay here. In…this. But here, they’re scared of me. Here I can be vicious, I can kill, whatever it takes, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters here. Out there…I fuck up and I’m a monster. Here, I’m one anyways, and they’re all I can hurt. I’m thinkin’ ‘bout it, though. Your offer is tempting. There’s a hell of a lot of good out there, too. And...you came a hell of a long way just to make me this offer.”

            Sam inclines his head in acknowledgement, in promise not to rush Benny. “Where’re we going?” he asks instead.

            Benny uses his free hand to point. “See those hills? Between them. It’s this little rocky outcrop, little caves and everything. That’s where they are. Or where they should be. That’s where we’re goin’.”

            Sam mentally winces at the long way. “Right,” he says.

            Benny looks over at him. “We’ll go slow. Take breaks if you need them.”

            Sam knows a break really isn’t going to help him—he’ll want blood and be incredibly weak whether or not he gets a breather every now and then—but he’s not going to protest, not when he knows how hard Benny is trying.

            “I miss a lot of it, you know,” Benny says. “Been a couple’a years here, mostly been able to forget it, but you—you’re bringin’ it all right back. Cookin’. I know, can’t eat, but I could once and cookin’ means something. Family, I don’t know. Nothing to cook here but other monsters or weird plants, and I’m not up for that. No one to feed, anyways. Fishin’. Nice, relaxin’ day on the water. Can’t eat those either, but I can release ‘em back. Or sell ‘em, or cook ‘em for someone else.

            “Miss the stars. Purgatory got a night sky but it ain’t the same, you know? Well you probably don’t, not yet, but you’ll figure it out. Yeah, just...not the same.

            “Miss people too. But that’s the thing, ain’t it? People come, people go, people die, people leave, whatever. Makes it a hell of a lot harder to live out there all alone, an’ sooner or later I’m always gonna end up alone.”

            He’s quiet and Sam isn’t quite capable of filling that silence, although he does understand, perhaps better than Benny thinks.

            “It’s hard, without people. But the thing is…even if I had people…I’m gonna outlive ‘em all, and when I’m done too I’ll just be back here. So you pullin’ me out…you’re buyin’ me time, Sam, not freedom.”

            Sam doesn’t know how to respond to that, is thankful he doesn’t really have to try.

            Benny clears his throat. “Anyways…things to keep in mind. I will think ‘bout your offer, Sam. But right now, we need to focus on this cure of yours. Hope it works.”

            “Does,” Sam says. “We’ve used it before.”

            “Good,” Benny says, and he seems relieved, like he was worried Sam would just turn himself and kill himself with some half-assed plan that may or may not be possible. “Real good. At least you’ll be able to get back then. ‘Cause I’m used to Purgatory, can accept this life, but you ain’t meant for it.”

            Sam wonders how Benny’s come to that conclusion, what makes him less of a killer and a monster than anything else here in Benny’s mind. Whatever it is, he’s pretty sure Benny has a clouded view of him, no doubt influenced by whatever romanticized stories Dean told of his idealized Sam when he and Benny were in Purgatory and Dean didn’t have to have any actual encounters with Sam.

            He lets it go. Let Benny see him like that. He’ll prove him wrong soon enough, somehow, Sam’s sure.

            “Okay to keep movin’?” Benny asks. Sam nods. “Good. You let me know if you need a break or whatever. I remember…I remember changin’. Brutal. ‘Course, I didn’t have to hold out on taking a drink. Just… yeah. But the thirst, and everythin’ is sharper, is _more_ …I remember.” He looks sidelong at Sam. “You’re an idiot for choosing to do this. You could have stayed nice an’ safe, in that home you were talkin’ about. I woulda been fine, here.”

            Sam shrugs. “Yeah, but you don’t have to be. You deserve a ride back, if you want one.” He pauses a moment. “Dean wants you back.”

            “Then maybe Dean should be the one here, ‘cause I can’t imagine you care too much overall.”

            That stings a bit, although Sam knows what he thought, what he said, back when Benny was on Earth. “You ever ask Dean ‘bout his views on monsters? _Once a monster, always a monster_. Always kill again. No hope. He proved himself right so many times, and I…figures you’d be the one that’s different. The one _he_ picked, the one _he_ trusted, right?”

            Benny looks over at him. “Don’t talk so much, Sam. Your throat.”

            Sam shrugs. “It’s not a cold, I don’t exactly think talking or not will fix it. Look, I didn’t trust you, okay? Yeah, sue me. Vampire, making my brother sulk around in secret, making him keep secrets and do stupid things, kept gettin’ yourself in suspicious situations. I didn’t trust you. You were just one more monster in a line of monsters out to screw us over. But I was wrong, obviously. Turns out Dean’s right; only he can make a call ‘bout who is and isn’t trustworthy. He was right ‘bout you, but nothing, _nothing_ I saw would’ve made it seem like that.”

            Sam hacks a cough, his throat on _fire_ , and stops talking.

            “Let’s get you some water,” Benny mutters. “Won’t fix it but it might soothe the rawness.”

            Sam’s somewhat grateful that Benny knows Purgatory so well—after more than fifty years spent in this place, he ought to—and guides them to a pond rather quick. The water doesn’t look exceptionally clean but Sam’s pretty sure he can’t get sick or carry diseases when he’s just a soul, and a vampiric soul at that, so he kneels down and cups some water to his mouth, greedily swallowing handful after handful.

            His body protests, the cool liquid hitting his tongue all wrong. It’s not what he needs, and the desperation flares up even greater for a moment—as if his body is trying to explain to him, the stupid vampire that won’t drink, what it actually needs—but settles back down to the just barely tolerable level. As Benny predicted, the water does soothe some of the aching rawness of his throat.

            “Better?” Benny asks lowly. Sam nods. “Good. Ready to start again? We gotta ways to go, still.”

            Sam nods and Benny hauls him back to his feet, and the two of them set off again. “You’re not wrong,” Benny says quietly after a few minutes. Sam opens his mouth but Benny cuts over him. “Nah, keep quiet, Sam, we don’t need to do that again. Don’t hurt yourself. Save if for if you really need to yell at me,” he says, trying for a half-hearted grin.

            “But… I know what you’re sayin’,” Benny says. “I know it looked bad. I know I’m what you hunt. I was never mad at ya, Sam, not for how you felt. Frustrated, maybe, but that was my life on the line. But not mad. I knew. I got it. An’ I don’t know what this thing is between you and your brother. Sounds like there’s something…well, you’ll have to tell me about it, when you can talk again. So I don’t go back unprepared. If I go back. But I swear, Dean was right ‘bout me. Whatever his thoughts on monsters are, I swear I’m not gonna hurt anyone.”

            “I know,” Sam says quietly.

            Benny gives him a hard look. “What’d I say ‘bout talking?”

            Sam rolls his eyes, and Benny continues. “Guess you figured it out, or you wouldn’t be here. Don’t strike me as one who takes risks. Well, with other people’s lives. Your life is a different story, I guess.”

            Sam shrugs. Benny doesn’t want him to talk and doesn’t want his explanations anyways.

            Benny exhales deeply, seemingly purging himself of the conversation. “Alright. We’re making good time. Better than I thought we would. Thing ‘bout Purgatory—not that big. Which means lots of monsters in only a little space, and lots of us killin’ each other. But it makes travel easier.”

            “You know those vamps?” Sam asks.

            “No,” Benny says. “I don’t make friends, Sam. I wasn’t exactly welcomed by my old nest and didn’t need a new one. I’m alone here. Don’t need anyone else. Your brother was the first I worked with, and only ‘cause he could do somethin’ I couldn’t.”

            Sam nods. “The portal.”

            “Yeah. The portal. Turns out he’s a damn good fighter and not half-bad company, too. Though think I got lucky on that. Wasn’t lookin’ to replicate the experience an’ find out. I get by just fine on my own. Obviously. Still here, right?”

            He’s quiet for a moment, but then he says, “if they’ve been here for a while, you can bet they’re strong. Skilled. Well-trained. Work well together, or they’d’ve slaughtered each other already. Sounds like they have numbers on us. Not a problem. Nothin’ we can’t handle, ‘m sure. Still, might want to do some recon first. Feel ‘em out, figure out what we’re dealin’ with. Assuming, of course, they ain’t expecting us, ‘cause then they’d guard the pass and catch us the minute we get anywhere near ‘em.”

            “He won’t know about the cure,” Sam says. “Not exactly widely known. So he shouldn’t think I’m comin’ to kill him.”

            Benny nods. “Lot ‘a vamps go to their Creator,” he says. “Calls to ‘em. ‘Course, I think it’s ‘cause most of us are so lost, we look for the first familiar face that looks like it can take care of us, show us the ropes. Maybe he’ll think that’s why you’re goin’. Might give us an element of surprise.”

            Sam nods. “‘Course, I also gave him dead man’s blood, chained him to a chair, stole a good amount of his blood, and had Cas chop his head off,” Sam says. “So maybe he won’t want to see me.”

            Benny shrugs. “Sure you’re not the only one to, uh, kill their creator. Maybe he’ll still take you. Havin’ a Winchester on your side, here? That’d be a major coup. The nest might be up for that.”

            Sam glances up at the jagged hills ahead. They’re getting closer, but they still seem so far away.

            Benny seems to notice the direction of his gaze. “Next time, turn yourself into somethin’ with wings,” Benny suggests.

            “Better not be a next time,” Sam says, but he can’t help quirk a small smile at the joke.

            “Fair enough,” Benny says. “Another one of those myths. I mean, don’t get me wrong--I’m tickled pink garlic won’t kill me an’ that I can go out in the sun without combustin’, that I don’t need an invitation into the house and a cross don’t repel me. But, man, to be able to turn into a horde of bats an’ fly everywhere? That’d be something.”

            “How would that even work?” Sam asks, struggling to recall the myths it appears in.

            Benny shrugs. “Don’t ask me. I don’t read vampire stories.”

            “You should,” Sam blurts. “There are some I think you’d like.”

            Benny rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me ‘bout that…what is it… _Twilight_ crap. Your brother already tried that one.”

            “Did you read ‘em?”

            “I looked at the back cover an’ realized your brother was havin’ his little joke. The way the sales girl looked at me too mighta given it away.”

            Sam can’t help but smile, picturing Benny curiously looking at _Twilight_ books with some girl staring at him.

            Benny looks up at the sky. “Right,” he says. “We should find a spot, bunker down.”

            Sam opens his mouth to protest. He wants to keep going. There’s no purpose in stopping. Not like he’s going to feel better in the morning. He’ll probably feel worse.

            Benny keeps talking before Sam can voice his objections. “Dark is when they all come out to kill each other,” Benny says. “And, with you…like you are…don’t think we should face that. If we get ambushed, surprised, don’t know what’ll happen. Least this way we can set up a defensible position, stay outta everyone’s way, be quiet, hope for the best. And,” he says, hesitating for a moment, “you might remember I haven’t slept in some time now. I can go a while but I can’t go forever, and I ain’t goin’ into that fight tomorrow without some sleep. Lemme get a few hours.”

            Sam has to concede to that, so Benny seeks out another shelter, surrounded by trees and on slightly elevated ground.

            He hands Sam a knife and lies down. “You hear anything, see anything, you wake me,” he says sharply. “I don’t care if it turns out to be nothin’, you’re not in any position to take a fight on your own right now, and the more warnin’ we have, the better. ‘M serious. You’re weak right now, and thirsty as all hell, an’ we can’t risk you takin’ a drink, not if we’re gettin’ you out of here. Wake me. Promise.”

            Sam nods. “Yeah.”

            Benny nods, satisfied. “Good. Wake me in three hours anyways. I’ll let you get some sleep then, then when the light’s comin’ back, we’ll set out.”

            He closes his eyes, drops his hat over his face, and goes still.

            Purgatory is the real, deadly embodiment of sitting up late after he watched his first horror movie with Dean when he was six. Every sound sounds like an attack, every shadow has the potential to hide his death. Except it’s all true, it all really could kill him.

            He forces himself to relax, or as much as he can, considering how bad off he is. His throat burns, and he’s only now realizing how Benny’s distractions had truly helped that day.

            He can distract himself. He’s good at it, keeping himself busy and focusing on things more important than his own body. He’ll just think of other things, like getting out of Purgatory, like what’s going to happen when he gets back.

            He can work through the plan just fine, even if how he and Benny are going to get the blood of his Creator is still a bit muddy. But it’s simple, really. Get the blood, make the cure, take the cure, get to the portal, somehow convince Benny to go with him, and then go through. Easy enough, he supposes, when he boils it down like that. But, really, that’s all there is to it. The rest is just details.

            Thinking of what’s going to happen when he gets back is a little harder. He’ll pray for Cas and hope Cas responds. Cas will come, with Sam’s body, which hopefully Cas will be able to resurrect, like he did for Dean all those years ago. Then Cas will put Sam’s soul back in Sam’s body.

            This is where things get murky. His body will likely need another round of the cure, to make body and soul as close to human as possible once more. He wonders what it means to have a human soul and a vampiric body. He supposes he’ll find out. It’s better not to dwell on that now.

            Then, of course, it all depends on whether Benny comes or not. If Benny is there, Sam will return him to his body and bring him to the Bunker, and Sam thinks Benny’s mere presence will sufficiently distract Dean from asking—or at least from pressing for answers to—too many questions.

            If Benny chooses to stay behind, Sam isn’t sure what he’ll do. He could keep up whatever myth Cas had evasively given to Dean, but then he’d be lying to his brother, and Sam is more than aware what that leads to. But the truth is just as unbearable. He can’t explain that he went after Benny, that he turned himself into a vampire, that he made Cas kill him, that he went to Purgatory. He can’t explain that he did all those things Dean will be pissed about, only to fail to bring Benny back. Sam would be a disappointment in so many ways.

            He closes his eyes for a second before remembering that he’s keeping watch. The objective is clear, then, and really hasn’t deviated since he started this plan. He needs to convince Benny to come back with him.

            The sky is completely dark and Sam looks up. He gets what Benny means. The sky is different. It seems smaller, almost. Back on Earth, the sky looks like it contains that vastness of multitudes, universes and infinities. Sometimes, it makes Sam feel small, but usually it just fills him with awe.

            The Purgatory sky is different. The stars are dimmer, the sky colder. It doesn’t hold promise, doesn’t hold infinity. It just holds them, keeping them inside and away from the rest of the world, away from heaven and hell. It’s isolating, incredibly isolating.

            Sam smiles softly to himself nevertheless. It’s been a long time since he’s taken a moment to look at the stars, a long time since he’s been able to justify that kind of action and that kind of time. Maybe, when he makes it back to Earth, assuming everything goes okay, assuming he survives it all, he’ll take a few minutes, look at a real sky and feel the immense wonder of it.

            Maybe Benny would like to look with him.

            He frowns. That’s not the plan, that’s never been the plan. He’s not getting Benny out for him, and he and Benny certainly aren’t going to become stargazing best friends. Even if Benny wanted such a thing—and, all things considered, why would Benny want it--it’s not going to happen.

            He is here to pay a debt and to bring Benny back for Dean, nothing else. Benny seems to think he understands where Sam was coming from just fine, and he doesn’t seem to want to hold it against Sam, and Sam is grateful for that, really, but that doesn’t change anything. They’re not friends. Sam didn’t come all this way to make friends.

            Benny is Dean’s friend, and Sam knows what sharing friends with Dean is like. It makes him second-best, if he’s any consideration at all, and it’s not that he can’t tolerate that—he accepts it just fine from the still-living friends they have—but he sees no reason to add more people to that collection.

            Sam is happy, with his books and his research and his hunts, truly. He can go back to being satisfied with that once he’s paid this debt and ensured Dean has someone he wants around to be there for him.

            So, no. He and Benny won’t be going stargazing. At least, they won’t be going stargazing together. Whatever they get up to on their own, in their own time, is their own business.

            Sam doesn’t think stargazing is something Dean would find interesting, but then again he doesn’t really know what Dean and Benny got up to in Purgatory. Maybe they watched this sky all the time. Maybe Dean and Benny will go stargazing. It would probably be good for Dean, something relaxing and easy to do, with someone he cares about.

            Sam turns his mind away from stargazing and focuses back on the world around him, the one actively trying to kill him that he will have to work to escape alive.

            It’s quiet, or as quiet as it ever gets. There’s noise, of course there is, but none of it is directed here or towards Sam and Benny’s resting place, and Sam relaxes slightly. Benny was likely right. If they stay out of the way and keep quiet, than they’ll stay out of trouble and be just fine.

            His soul is apparently given to wearing blue jeans, flannel and boots, but not a watch, so Sam can’t exactly track the three hours Benny asked to be allowed to sleep for, so he gives it a rough estimate before shaking Benny awake.

            Sam probably should have known better than to do that, because Benny doesn’t wake easy. On the contrary, he’s already reaching for a weapon while springing at Sam, and some part of Sam is afraid to shout lest he alert nearby monsters to their location, so he starts talking to Benny in a low, quiet voice instead.

            “Just me, Sam, just Sam. Look, it’s me. Not gonna hurt you. ‘M here to bring you out, remember?”

            Benny gets a hold of himself relatively quickly and pulls back. “Sorry,” he grunts.

            “S’okay,” Sam says quietly. “Probably should’ve known better than to try that. Anyways, you good? ‘Cause I can give you a couple more hours, if you need them.”

            “I’m fine. You get some sleep.”

            Sam looks at him for a moment and Benny stares back, unmoving, so Sam nods and lies down in the indented grass that Benny just rose from, and closes his eyes.

            He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, not desperate and thirsty and wound as he is, but it’s only minutes before the noise of Purgatory fades away into dreams.


	2. The Cure

 Once more, Sam wakes in the least peaceful way possible.

            He rolls to his feet as best he can, grabs Benny’s knife from his belt, and shakily examines the scene.

            Benny’s fast, Sam will give him that. Two of the shifters are already dead, necks broken and bloodless on the ground, the third sizing Benny up, circling him, looking like he’s debating running.

            And then Benny starts whistling.

            Sam vaguely recognizes the tune but can’t entirely place it. Benny keeps whistling as he steps closer and closer to the shifter, weapon raised.

            The shifter turns and runs, and Benny lets him.

            He turns back to Sam and grins. “All good,” he says. “You can go back to sleep.”

            Sam blinks at him but puts the knife away. “The whistling is creepy as hell,” Sam says.

            “That’s the point,” Benny says. “Scares the hell outta all of ‘em, just like it should.”

            Sam lets himself fall back to the ground as Benny comes back over to their spot. “What did they want?”

            Benny shrugs. “Guess we looked vulnerable.”

            Sam snorts, because Benny has thoroughly proven that vulnerable is the last thing that they are. “Right,” he says. He looks up, watching the sky lighten slightly. “You ready to go, or…”

            “Yeah, guess we should move,” Benny says. “If you don’t want more sleep. Not gonna kill us to wait.”

            “I’m good,” Sam promises.

            “Alright, then,” Benny says, offering Sam a hand up, which Sam accepts. “Let’s get a move on, then. We can get there today.”

            Today, then, Sam can have his cure, and, after a few days of suffering, this damn thirst will be gone.

            Benny grins. “Sound good?” he asks, reading Sam’s mind.

            “Yeah. Great. We just…have to get the blood.”

            “We’ll figure it out,” Benny says. They’re quiet for over an hour before Benny says, “listen. There’s gonna be blood, and you’re gonna want it.”

            Sam nods tightly.

            “Don’t know if this’ll help much once you start smellin’ it, but remember this: it ain’t good blood. It smells like blood an’ you’ll want it, but they’re all vamps and they’ve gone through that blood already. Nothin’ left in it but the smell. You don’t want it. Not worth it.”

            “Do you think that’ll stop me?”

            “No. Hell no. Sam, your body wants it an’ wants it bad. I hope it’ll maybe slow you down, though. Enough for me to stop you.”

            “You think you can?”

            Benny laughs quietly. “A strong breeze could blow you over, Sam. You won’t be focused on fightin’, you’ll be focused on gettin’ to the blood. You won’t have the presence of mind to do much real damage. I’ll be okay, an’ I’ll stop you.”

            Sam nods, grateful. “Thank you.”

            Benny gives him a crooked grin. “Still my ticket out, right? If I choose to go?”

            “Right,” Sam nods. “Right. Protect the asset.”

            “Aw, more than that, Sam,” Benny says. “I was…stupid comment. You’re more than a ride. You’re a friend.”

            “Sure you want that? It’s just…my friends tend to end up dead. All of them.”

            Benny’s grin doesn’t falter. “Then I’ll have to be the one to change that. Now, shush. We’re gettin’ close an’ I don’t know if they posted guards. Don’t need them findin’ us before we’re ready.”

            Sam nods and tries to silence his footsteps in addition to his voice.

            No one finds them. Sam can’t tell if there are any guards, but if there are Sam would hazard a guess that they’re not that good. They draw nearer and nearer to the place that supposedly houses the nest of vampires.

            Sam is struck by the sudden fear that maybe they’re not there. Maybe they’d been lied to, or maybe the nest moved on.

            He doesn’t think he can make it to a new destination. He doesn’t think he can make it through interrogating a source to find that new destination. If this doesn’t pan out, if they don’t get the blood for the cure here and now, then Sam thinks the opportunities for him to slip up and mess everything up, to be stuck in Purgatory forever, multiply tenfold from sheer desperation. It’s getting harder and harder to hold out, and really the only reason he hasn’t is because Benny has been carefully providing him no opportunities to screw up.

            Benny sniffs the air. “Eight of ‘em,” he says quietly. “An’ your Creator is there.”

            Sam’s whole body nearly sags in relief.

            Sam starts to be able to smell them too, as they draw even closer. It’s difficult to pick out the mingled scents from this distance, to distinguish their blood from the scent of everything around them, but, with some concentration, it’s possible.

            Eight vampires, all fully developed and trained to work together like a unit. Sam swallows convulsively. Those are not good odds in a fight.

            Benny seems to know what he’s thinking, and Sam wonders if Benny can smell fear.

            “I’ve taken plenty ‘fore, on my own,” he says. “Least six. Maybe more. C’mon. We can do this. We still got the element of surprise.”

            Sam nods, although he doesn’t feel as confident as Benny pretends to. Still, he doesn’t have much of a choice. He either goes in there and gets the blood of his Creator, or he gives into the thirst and spends the rest of eternity as a vampire in Purgatory, and, really, it’s not much choice at all.

            The smell grows stronger and more distinct, and Sam knows that if they can smell these vampires, then they can smell them. Sure enough, by the time they make it to the mouth of the pass, they’re all waiting.

            Sam’s Creator looks him up and down. “You,” he says blankly. “Didn’t expect to see you. Still…you’re a vampire. Looking for a home, now, are you?”

            Sam nods silently.

            The vampire considers. “I won’t pretend I’m not…upset…with you. Still. You’re a Winchester. I imagine you must be a strong hand. Handy to have around. You can stay, and work to earn my forgiveness. Who’s your friend?”

            “I know that vampire,” one of the female vampires cuts in. “He was here a long time. Left a while, but then ended up right back here. Where we all end up, right? Not so much better than the rest of us, after all.”

            Benny snarls but the rest seem to ignore him.

            “Out?” Sam’s Creator asks. “How is that possible?”

            “Dean Winchester,” the women spits. “Humans can get out of Purgatory, and apparently they can give rides. You just have a thing for Winchesters, don’t you?” she directs at Benny. “What point does this one serve? He can’t get you out.”

            Benny shrugs. “He could get me here.”

            “And you’re looking for a nest?” one of the others asks.

            Benny shrugs again. “Somethin’ like that. So, what d’you say?” he asks, stepping forward.

            He stabs the nearest one in the neck, quickly decapitating him and killing him. The blood starts to pour and Sam’s senses catch on fire, but he’s already moving by that point, Benny’s knife out and ready, aiming for the throat.

            He doesn’t know how many he takes down before the need for blood overwhelms his urge to attack, but Benny hauls him back from the female vampire’s severed aortic artery, just in time to stop Sam from lowering himself down and giving into his need for that sweet-smelling blood.

            “Remember what I said,” Benny huffs loudly. “Don’t—want—that—fuck, you’re strong—Sam!”

            He shakes Sam hard enough to jar him into at least thinking, and the need for blood is almost overwhelming but not quite.

            Benny doesn’t let him go, but turns him so they’re looking at each other.

            He has blood on his face and a smile on his lips. “Told you we could take eight,” he says. “An’ told you I could stop you. Now, we need to get blood from your Creator, right? Right? He’s dead. Head chopped off. Bleedin’ out fast, so we gotta do this, now or never. An’ I need you to focus, to keep in control. Know it’s hard. But it’s damn important.”

            Sam nods, and Benny relaxes a bit. “Good. Good. I ain’t lettin’ you go. Let’s get you some blood.”

            The head is several feet from the body, cleaved straight off and Sam thinks Benny must have taken care of him. His work, overall, looks cleaner than Sam’s.

            Benny takes off his hat and Sam has to concede that it’s the best option—better than a shoe, certainly—and lets the gush of blood fill up a good inch or two at the bottom of the hat.

            Sam reaches a shaky hand into his pocket and pulls out the mixture of ground plants, sprinkling it into the blood. Benny gently moves the hat, stirring it together.

            “This it?” Benny asks. Sam nods.

            “Wait,” Sam says. “I’m gonna…be out of it, day or two.”

            Benny gets it and looks around. “They had caves,” he suggests. “Could hole up here.”

            Sam nods and lets Benny lead him to the nearest cave, which isn’t exactly outfitted for comfort but at least is a private, defensible shelter for them to take cover in while he’s insensible.

            He doesn’t wait any longer. He uses his free hand to take the hat, and swallows the contents.

            It takes a minute to hit his system. He panics for a moment that he did something wrong, that he messed up somewhere, but then the crippling pain hits and his knees loosen, and it’s only Benny’s quick grab that saves him from crashing to the ground. Benny’s arms are the last thing he remembers for several hours.

 

            He wakes up, off and on, over the course of the cure. As far as he can tell, Benny never leaves him, doesn’t even seem to ever let him go. Instead, Benny’s sitting on the cave floor, back to a wall, Sam pulled up so his back is against Benny’s chest, his arms around Sam, keeping him steady while his body is rocked by the cure.

            Sam thinks Benny talks to him too, although he doesn’t think it’s English and can’t understand a word.

            He thinks absently that he’s feverish, can’t stop shaking, and when he gets a look at Benny he seems worried. But he knows there’s nothing Benny can do. Even if they had access to modern medicine, none of it would help. He just has to get through this. Sweat it out, as it were, survive this and then he’ll be human again.

            He starts to regain coherence after a while, although not his steadiness. He fervently hopes their cave remains undisturbed.

            The first thing he really processes is that the thirst is gone, that he can no longer smell the bodies that are almost certainly still outside. The second thing he notices is Benny, who is still holding him—so that wasn’t a hallucination, then—and is still murmuring quietly. It takes Sam a moment to focus, but he can hear him and understand him now.

            “Wakin’ up there? ‘Bout time. C’mon, Sam. Open your eyes.”

            Sam does so. It’s bright but not blindingly so, and he thinks that means his human senses have returned. He blinks once, twice, then tilts his head back to focus on Benny, who’s smiling at him.

            “Thank God. Been a while, Sam.”

            “How long?” he asks. His throat still hurts, but he thinks water might help fix that. It’s not that desperate raw burning need for blood any longer.

            Benny shrugs. “‘Bout two days. Scared the hell outta me. Didn’t realize it would be that hard on you. How you doin’?”

            “Better,” Sam says firmly. “Not…I think I’m human again.”

            “Sound better too,” Benny says approvingly. “Think you’re gonna get your strength back?”

            “Probably,” Sam says. Dean had recovered from vampirism relatively quickly, after the cure. But Sam is merely a soul in Purgatory, without access to so many human things.

            “Well, let me know when you’re feelin’ up to walkin’ on your own.”

            “We can go now,” Sam says.

            “Nah. We’ll wait. This is a good spot. Not in any danger. We can wait until you can walk yourself to the portal.”

            He reaches up a hand and brushes Sam’s sweat-matted hair off his face. Sam starts a bit at the touch.

            “Sorry,” Benny says. “Got used to doing that, while you were out.” He’s quiet for a second, then drops his arms from around Sam. “You need anything?”

            Sam shrugs. “Water?”

            Benny nods. “Sure thing. Lie down a bit, Sam. I’ll bring you your water.”

            He helps Sam move from on top of him to the ground and gets up. “Be right back,” he says. “Ten minutes. Fifteen, tops. Shout if something happens.”

            Sam nods so Benny leaves. Sam turns to his side, pillowing his head on his arms, and closes his eyes. He’s still tired, so completely tired.

            Benny returns soon enough, walking slowly and carefully, two cupped hands full of water. “Sorry,” he says, bringing his hands closer to Sam. “Didn’t want to use the hat again. Last thing you need is to be re-contaminated.”

            Sam agrees although he’s less than fond of the idea of drinking from Benny’s hands. Still, he needs it, so he tilts them to his mouth and takes a greedy gulp, then another.

            It’s not enough but it’s a definite improvement, and it will be enough to get him back on his feet and moving.

            “Thanks,” he says.

            “No problem. Better?”

            “Mhm. Probably be able to go soon.”

            Benny nods and sits down, back against the rock wall. “Okay, then. Take your time.”

            “Sooner we go, sooner I can get back. And the less I keep Dean waiting. Cas too. He seemed worried.”

            “What’d you tell Dean, anyways?”

            “Nothin’,” Sam says. “Cas an’ I left for a case. Lookin’ for the vampire. Cas is supposed to feed him some story, about me going off with a girl or something.”

            “An’ how’re you gonna explain it when you get back?”

            Sam shrugs. “Don’t know yet. Depends on what happens.”

            “You gonna lie to him?”

            Sam hesitates. “I don’t want to,” he admits. “But…if you don’t come…how am I gonna explain this, that I did this, turned myself into a vampire, went to Purgatory, and didn’t even manage to bring you back?” Sam looks away. “Think the vampire bit would be the worst for Dean to hear.”

            Benny moves closer. “Don’t matter anyway, ‘cause you’re cured. But Dean doesn’t hate vampires. I mean, he likes me just fine. Long as we drink from bags.”

            Sam looks back over and gives Benny a hard look. “You knew Dean, what, just about two years? One intense year together, then only seeing him on and off. I’ve known Dean more than thirty years, Benny. I think I know my brother. You may have been the one he broke all the rules for but that doesn’t change much of how he feels.”

            Benny sits back. “You’re right,” he says after a moment. “You got experience on me. I like to think I know Dean—battle forges brotherhood, you know? But, out of this, out there—I don’t. Not really.” Benny pauses for a moment. “He was on my list of things worth goin’ back for. You tellin’ me he shouldn’t be?”

            “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you should go back for Dean,” Sam says. “Told you. You’re his exception. The friendly monster. He trusts you. You didn’t live long enough to fuck up, so maybe more than anyone else.”

            Benny looks a little disturbed at that proclamation, and Sam shrugs. “Dean doesn’t like it so much when people don’t live up to his expectations. And I’ve had lots of chances not to live up to those. Whatever they are.”

            “I, uh, I’m sorry,” Benny says.

            “Don’t be.” Sam feels like he’s said too much already. Benny isn’t here to listen to his problems, and certainly not his occasional problems with Benny’s best friend. He’s trying to convince him to come back, not scare him away. “Dean is…you know what he is. He’s a great person. Cares about people. He’s a hero.”

            Benny looks at him carefully. “Sure.”

            “The year—the year you were around, things were rough. I mean, really rough. Year after that, too, and most of the year after that. We’ve always had our issues. We always will have our issues. But things are…better.”

            Benny is still looking at him in that disconcerting way. “Alright.” He changes the subject. “How do you feel now?”

            Sam focuses in on himself for a moment. “Better. Good to go, I think.”

            “Try to get up,” Benny suggests, and Sam is relieved to find that he can. He’s a little wobbly on his feet at first, but he’s remaining upright, so he’s counting it as a win.

            Benny gets to his feet with easy grace. “Right, then. You look good. Want to go?”

            Sam nods and follows Benny out of the cave. “Where’ll the portal be?”

            “I can get us there,” Benny says. “Might take a while. We’ll see how fast you can take it.”

            Sam nods. “Okay.”

            Purgatory is dull, sunshine filtered through clouds, which, Sam supposes, is what makes walking around a safe possibility for Benny. Sam isn’t sure if vampires can feel the burn of the sun in Purgatory, although he makes a mental note to get them under cover if the sun ever should strengthen, just in case.

              “So, Sam,” Benny begins, “tell me ‘bout you. For someone who consigned himself to Purgatory to save me, don’t actually really know you at all.”

              “What do you want to know?” Sam asks.

              Benny shrugs. “Everythin’. I carried the conversation on the way here. It’s your turn.”

              “Not much to tell.”

              “There’s gotta be somethin’ ‘bout you. What do you do for fun?”

              “Read.”

              “There you go. What’s your favorite book?”

              Sam shrugs. “Been a while since I got a chance to read for the fun of it. I mostly read for research. Or cataloguing. The, uh, place I told you about. Where Dean and I live. Has a huge library. I’ve been keeping it up.”

              “You like it?”

              “Yeah. I like the books. And…it’s the first time I’ve ever felt any real connection to family.”

              “Hm?”

            “Oh. Right. The books, the Bunker, all of it…it belonged to some secret organization. Called themselves Men of Letters. Our grandfather—Henry Winchester—was one of them. We’re legacies.”

            “Must be nice.”

            “Think I would’ve liked my grandfather,” Sam says. “If I met him for more than a couple hours.

            “What happened?”

            Sam considers. “He disappeared in 1958. Messed my dad up. Anyways, turns out he went to a secret Men of Letters meeting and did some time travel. Ended up falling out of the closet of the motel Dean and I were at. He was looking for dad. Hard to tell him he was long dead,” Sam says. “He died. To save us. Save me, mostly.”

            “Sorry to hear that,” Benny says.

            Sam shrugs. “Winchesters die. Campbells die. Horribly. Just how it works.”

            Benny doesn’t look like he knows how to respond to that. “What, uh, other things do you do for fun?”

            “I, uh, hunt.”

            “That’s not for fun.”

            “Yeah, well, my life is pretty limited to those books and hunting.”

            “No time for more or no desire for more?”

            Sam shrugs. “Not a lot of time. Not much else to have in my life.”

            “Dean said you have a girl.”

            Sam looks away. “She’s married. Turns out, her husband wasn’t as dead as everyone thought. I cleared out. She deserved the guy who married her, who could give her all that. I went back once. Dean, uh. To save you, actually. He had swapped out her number in my phone with one of his phones. Texted me. SOS. I went after her.

            “We had sex. She…she seemed to want more. We said we’d meet the next day. Maybe she went there, maybe she didn’t. I don’t know; I was already gone.”

            “Did you not want to stay?”

            “Of course I wanted to stay. But…that’s selfish. I’m a hunter, right? I could…she could have the normal husband and house, no monsters coming out from the woodwork.”

            Benny nods. “I get it. No one else?”

            “No one,” Sam confirms. “I’m not gonna try again.”

            “Sad way of lookin’ at it.”

            Sam shrugs. “Have you seen my track record? Demon possession, death, betrayal, murder…me leaving must have hurt Amelia but at least she’s still alive.”

            Benny looks at him sadly and Sam bristles under it. He doesn’t want pity, least of all from Benny. “What else can I expect? I’m a hunter, I’m a Winchester. I’m Sam Winchester.”

            They’re quiet for a bit, and Sam puts on a little more speed to encourage them to stay that way. Benny keeps up easily and doesn’t take the hint.

            “Tell me more ‘bout you, Sam,” he encourages.

            “What has Dean already told you?” Sam challenges.

            Benny shrugs. “A bit. But I wanna hear from you.”

            Sam looks around. “I want more water,” he says.

            Benny knows what he’s doing, how badly Sam is sidestepping his question, but he nods. “Okay, then. Give it five minutes, we’ll get to a little pond.”

            The little pond is covered in a gross, green scum that Sam’s stomach rebels at the thought of drinking, but he said he wanted this and he won’t back down now. Besides, he could use a little more water.

            Benny seems to know what he’s thinking. “You’re just a soul,” Benny reminds him. “I don’t think it can hurt you.”

            Sam nods and kneels down, swirling his fingers through the water, trying to displace the green scum, before cupping his hands and bringing up a mouthful. He does it twice more before standing.

            “Better?” Benny asks. Sam nods. “Good. We can get goin’, an’ you can tell me ‘bout you.”

            Sam rolls his eyes at Benny’s insistence. “What do you want to know?”

            Benny shrugs. “Do you like being a hunter?”

            “Sometimes,” Sam says. “I like helping people.”

            “But…?” Benny prompts.

            “But I get to watch everyone I care about die at least once, something always wants to use me, I’ve killed more than I can ever count, I don’t know what it’s like, to not be in danger, and I’ve been forced into this lifestyle since I was an infant.”

            “What would you do, if you weren’t hunting?”

            “I was going to be a lawyer,” Sam says. “I was pre-law. At Stanford. I ran away from hunting to go to Stanford and become a lawyer. It didn’t work out. Hunting always drags me back. Hunting is my only option, really.”

            “You could still be a lawyer.”

            “I’m wanted. I’m presumed dead, more than once. But more than that...I’m beyond that. Really. That was a dream that I gave up a long time ago. I’m not lying—I’ve made my peace with hunting. When Dean and I are on good terms, it’s even…it feels good. I like helping people. I like…solving mysteries.”

            “Well. That’s good,” Benny says. “Think I’d make a good hunter?”

            Sam starts. “You’re gonna hunt?”

            Benny shrugs. “If I come back, I guess so. What else would I do? You said I’m invited to stay with you and Dean, figurin’ I could work with you, too.”

            Sam supposes it’s logical, that it really is the best option. “Guess so,” he says. “You’d be a great hunter. Vampirism probably comes in handy.”

            Benny chuckles. “Yeah. Tell me ‘bout this place of yours.”

            “Secret underground bunker,” Sam says. “Dean sometimes calls it the batcave. That’s, uh, a reference, to Batman. A comic book. And—”

            “I know who Batman is,” Benny interrupts, rolling his eyes.

            “Oh. Good. Just checking. Yeah, but it’s huge. Shooting range, big old library, massive garage, more bedrooms than I can count. Dean likes the kitchen. Even has a dungeon.”

            “Some place you got.”

            “Well, like I said—belonged to a secret society, so meant for more than just the two of us. Sometimes there’s more—Cas will stay or something, but usually it’s big and empty.”

            “Got a room for me?” Benny grins.

            “If you want one.”

            Benny sobers. “Maybe. You make a good argument, Sam. Woulda been a good lawyer.”

            “I haven’t argued anything,” Sam protests.

            “Yes, you have,” Benny says. “You’ve been working on me since I found you.”

            Sam’s not sure what he’s actually done, but if he’s in any way actually convincing Benny, he’s not going to argue. “It’s nice to have a home,” he says instead.

            “Been a long time since I could say I had one,” Benny admits wistfully.

            Sam shrugs. “Well, I’m offering. A place to stay, at least. Can’t magically make it a home. But give it a chance.”

            Benny nods. “You need more water?”

            Sam considers. “No. I’m good.”

            Benny nods again. “Purgatory. Slowing everything down, keepin’ you in stasis, pretty much. You probably won’t need it again. ‘Less you get hurt. But I ain’t plannin’ to let that happen.”

            “Thanks,” Sam says dryly. “But I think I can take care of myself.”

            Benny looks him over critically. “Yeah, you look steadier on your feet. But these things are all supernatural, all have that advantage. You’re human.” Benny pauses a moment, then says, “suppose you’re used to it, though. Guess you’ll be fine.”

            “I always pull through,” Sam agrees.

            Benny seems to think for a moment, then makes a decision. “Gimme you knife,” he says, reaching for his own weapon.

            Sam hasn’t studied Benny’s too much, but now he takes a look. It seems to be stone, long and curved and perfectly designed for cleaving heads from shoulders, like the one Dean still keeps on his wall. He hands it to Sam, handle first.

            “Take it,” he instructs. “Lot more effective than that little knife. That mighta let you stab some vampires in the throat and keep ‘em down long enough for me to finish the job, but I’d feel better if you had this. Shoulda given it to you earlier.”

            “It’s yours,” Sam protests.

            Benny grins. “Now that blood ain’t an issue for you, I can feel free to use my teeth, my claws. I’m good, Sam. Bein’ a vampire comes with lots ‘a little advantages.”

            Sam hands over the knife and takes the unwieldy stone weapon. He feels exposed, carrying it by his side, revealing his weapon and his defense for any attackers to see, but it’s not like it fits on his belt, so he supposes he’ll make do.

            He hefts it experimentally. It’s not as heavy as he would have thought, should swing easily and do exactly what it was designed for without any trouble at all.

            Benny seems to read his mind once more. “She’s a useful little piece,” he says. “Never failed me yet.”

            Sam nods. “Okay.”

            “Figures this means, if you’re up for it, we can walk through the night. You’re stronger, I ain’t worried ‘bout somethin’ pickin’ you off, or you succumbing to blood. Figure we can make it just fine.”

            “Sounds good,” Sam says.

            “You need a break, let me know.”

            “Sure. But I’m fine.”

            “Okay, then. Let’s keep movin’.”

            It gets dark relatively quickly, after that, and Purgatory comes alive once more, fighting and killing and blood and suffering dominating the air. Sam tries to tune it out, best he can, and briefly looks up. “I get what you meant about the sky here,” he offers.

            “Hm? Oh, yeah. Not the same, not at all. I do miss the real thing.”

            “Well, we’re close, right? Could have the real thing as early as tomorrow night.”

            “Maybe,” Benny says guardedly. Then he says, “what’s really gonna happen to you when we get back?”

            Sam shrugs. “Told you. Pray for Cas. He’ll resurrect my body, shove my soul back inside. He’s done it for Dean before, so it’s possible. Then…I’ll probably have to be cured again, make body and soul match up. Then…I deal with Dean.”

            “You died to come here,” Benny says, like he’s just realizing it.

            “You already knew that.”

            “I know, it’s just--Sam, that’s some dedication for a guy you barely know.”

            “I don’t like to owe. And you’re good for Dean.”

            “Owe what?” Benny asks.

            Sam looks at him. “You’re here because of me. If it hadn’t been for that—”

            “Then I probably woulda found another way to die—or worse, given in and been a monster again,” Benny says. “I ain’t here ‘cause of you, I’m here ‘cause I chose to stay.” He shrugs. “Seemed like the best option at the time. So if you’re here ‘cause you feel guilty for that, then you came a long way for nothin’. You owe me nothin’.”

            Sam disagrees but Benny doesn’t sound much like he’s up for an argument. “Does it still seem like the best option?”

            Benny counters fast, with something Sam doesn’t expect. “Do you think I’m a monster, Sam?”

            Sam gapes at him for a moment, then turns away. “All things that kill will kill again,” he says quietly.

            Sam can’t see Benny but he can still feel him withdraw. “Then why—”

            “But,” Sam interrupts, “you make me remember when I didn’t believe that. When I believed we could change. Before all the times Dean was proven right, before…look, every time I hoped, it didn’t work out so well. But you…make me want to try again.”

            Benny seems smart enough not to question this benevolent acknowledgement, which is probably wise, as Sam himself really can’t explain it. Why Benny is the one he risks hoping on, why Benny is the one he stakes the last shards of his shattered optimism on, he can’t understand. But he has, it’s undoubtable that he has.

            “Okay, then,” Benny says quietly. “Thank you. I’ll--I’ll prove you right. I changed. I ain’t a monster.”

            Sam nods, but doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say to that.

            Darkness has truly fallen, now. Sam is grateful to be human again but he has to admit, vampire night vision has its purpose. He steps closer to Benny.

            Benny turns to look at him. “Hold my arm,” he suggests.

            Sam wants to balk at the invitation but doesn’t. There’s no sense in letting his human eyes deceive him, get him or both of them hurt, just because he can’t see in the dark as well as Benny. So he places his left hand on Benny’s arm, making sure not to lose the vampire.

            Benny suddenly takes a sharp turn. “This way,” he says. “Got a pack up ahead.”

            They manage to avoid the pack and escape their notice, keeping moving towards their goal.

            “Sam, I gotta know—is it gonna be like this when we go back—if I go back?”

            Sam raises an eyebrow. “Uh, no. I mean…the world hasn’t changed. We hunt a lot but we don’t spend every waking moment avoiding being killed by monsters, I promise.”

            “I meant…us,” Benny says. “Like this. Friends, or whatever. Got the feeling you didn’t like me much, before. You still gonna like me, if we’re not in Purgatory?”

            “Guess Purgatory is just a good place to see what people are really like. And you’re a good person, Benny. And, if you keep being a good person, out there, than I can live with that.”

            “You do know the reason they’re mostly avoiding us is ‘cause they’re scared of me, right? ‘Cause I killed a whole hell of a lot?”

            “Yeah, but…you didn’t have to help me last time. You didn’t have to do all you did this time. Staying with me, and helping me, through the change, through the cure. You’re…you’re a good guy. A good friend for Dean.”

            “Why’s it always come back to Dean?” Benny asks.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Always Dean. Like you’re doing this all for Dean. Like you do everything for Dean.”

            “Dean’s my brother. I owe him a lot. And you make him happy. Not too complicated, right? I could do this, for you, for him. So I did.”

            Sam can’t really make out Benny’s facial expressions, but he thinks he’s troubled by something, like something Sam said is sitting with him all wrong. “What about what you want, huh, Sam?”

            Sam shrugs inelegantly. He doesn’t even know what he wants anymore. Hunts to go well, everyone possible to live, time with his books, an hour to himself to read a good book now and then, for his plans to go off without a problem. He remembers having dreams bigger than that, once, but what’s the point of keeping those, when life gives him opportunity for so little by comparison.  
            “I want to get us out of here,” he says. “Want to show you that night sky you talked about and bring you to the Bunker. Good enough?”

            “For now,” Benny allows. “But you’re gonna have to do better, eventually.”

            Sam’s annoyed at that. “My life is just fine.”

            Sam thinks Benny holds up his free arm in a gesture of mock surrender. “Okay, then. I’ll take your word on that. Tell you what, though. Gonna find something you like. We can do it together.”

            “What if you don’t like it?”

            “Then I’ll learn. ‘Less you like, I don’t know, ballet, or somethin’. Then I’ll watch. I ain’t built to do ballet.”

            “Don’t think I’m really built for it, either.”

            Sam gets the feeling Benny is looking him over. “You? All long an’ lean, like that? You’d be great. Look great in tights, too.”

            Sam blushes.

            “Am I…sorry, should I stop?” Benny asks.

            “It’s okay, I’m just not used to it,” he says quietly.

            “Sam Winchester isn’t used to people flirtin’ with him?” Benny asks.

            Sam blushes even further at the confirmation that Benny had indeed been flirting. “No, uh…no. Not usually.”

            “Don’t believe it.”

            “Well. It’s true.”

            “Well, here’s the thing. I can’t possibly believe people don’t flirt with you, Sam. From what I know, you’re a nice guy. Definitely good-looking. Save the world, all that. So, no, people definitely flirt with you. So I think you just don’t notice.”

            Sam shrugs. “Maybe. It’s possible, I guess.”

            Sam can practically hear Benny’s grin. “Well, I’ll make damn sure you notice, then.”

            Sam fidgets uncomfortably.

            “You can tell me if I’m makin’ you uncomfortable, you know,” Benny says. “Last thing I want to do.”

            Sam takes a deep breath, composes himself. “It’s fine,” he insists. Benny apparently has a bit of a flirty side; Sam supposes it must come out in non life-or-death situations, and, assuming he does get Benny out of here, he guesses he’ll see more of it. It’s not a  _problem_ , just unusual. Weird, that Benny would pick him.

            There’s no one else around right now, though, Sam realizes, so he probably won’t see this much after they’re out of here, once there’s Dean and seven billion other people for Benny to flirt with to his heart’s content.

            He takes another deep breath. He can deal with this. “Why are we talking about flirting in  _Purgatory_?” Sam asks. “Seems like an odd place.”

            “Not just talkin’ ‘bout it, Sam…doin’ it. At least I am.”

            Sam rolls his eyes. “Have fun with that. Long as it doesn’t keep us from gettin’ out.”

            “It won’t,” Benny says. Sam’s heart leaps. Benny doesn’t deny the  _us_ , doesn’t remind Sam that he might not be coming. That news does more to Sam than any flirting. “Speakin’ of...we’re getting close.”

            “Yeah?” Sam asks. He can’t see much of anything, still. He’ll have to take Benny’s word for it.

            “Yeah. Should make it…just a bit after dawn, probably.”

            “Real close, then.”

            “Mhm. Gonna be home today, Sam.”

            Sam grins. “Sounds good.”

            The sky begins to lighten and Sam slowly gains his vision back. He recognizes where he is, vaguely, the memory coming back to him as he takes it all in. “Real close,” he says.

            “Mhm. You know what to do, right?”

            Sam nods. “The spell.”

            “Yeah. Portal will open when you get close. Should, at least. Dean was a body, you’re just a soul…” Sam swallows. He knows this. It all hinges on Purgatory seeing his soul as human enough to want to eject. Theoretically, there should be no problem. He’s human. He is, and Purgatory doesn’t want him here. “Should be fine,” Benny adds. Sam wonders how much he believes it. “Anyways, then you say the spell. I end up in you. Dean says it burnt. He knew I was there. We go through, and…you do whatever it is you gotta do. Just don’t forget me in there, yeah?”

            Sam grins. “You’re coming.”

            Benny nods. “Guess so. How could I let you come all this way for nothin’?”

            Sam swallows, grin slipping a bit. “Do you want to come?”

            Benny looks over at him intently. “Don’t know if you can deliver on everythin’ you promised, Sam. But even half of it—I’ll take it. I’ll give it a try.” He closes his eyes for a second. “Can always come back, right? All monsters end up here.”

            “Right,” Sam says, and makes a mental note to research that further. The idea of Benny coming back the Purgatory for a third time physically pains him, although he can’t really explain it. All monsters do end up in Purgatory; that’s how things work.

            But maybe not how they should work. Because Benny doesn’t deserve to be forced back here, Sam knows that with certainty.

            Sam recognizes where they are with vivid clarity. “This is where you chose to stay last time,” he says quietly. “Gonna bail on me again?”

            “Nah,” Benny says. “I’m with you, Sam, all the way to the other side.”

            Sam swallows. “Right,” he says. “Good.”

            “Almost there. Should…open any second now.”

            Sam holds his breath. He tries not to think about what he’ll do if it doesn’t open. Cas might still manage to send a Reaper, like he wanted to. Or they could try to sneak into hell, see if that provided many more options…

            But, most likely, he’d be stuck here, alongside Benny, for the rest of eternity. Or, at least, until someone wipes him out and destroys what’s left of his soul.

            The portal appears and he thinks he hears Benny breathe a sigh of relief as big as his own. “Alright, now or never, Sam,” he says.

            Sam hoists his weapon and studies it. “Switch for the knife,” he suggests, and Benny is quick to obey his request, taking the stone weapon from Sam and giving him the smaller, more manageable knife.

            Sam slices into his arm and watches Benny’s eyes while he does it. Benny doesn’t so much as twitch at the blood. Sam wonders if it’s Purgatory or his own control.

            Benny takes the knife from Sam and makes a slice on his own arm, and then takes hold of Sam. Sam grips him back, and begins to speak. “ _Conjunti sumus, unum sumus.”_

            Benny’s whole body stiffens, and he disappears in a flash of light, sinking into Sam’s arm.

            “Dammit,” Sam groans. It  _does_  hurt.

            He shakes his head. No sense in wasting time, especially because the way to relieve the pain—to end this, all of this—is on the other side of that portal.

            He steps through, closing his eyes.

 

            He falls out on the other side. He’s definitely not on his feet, which means he should have hit the ground hard, but he doesn’t seem to have done so.

            He opens his eyes and it all falls into place, what should have been obvious from the start.

            He’s a ghost.

            He doesn’t think he’s corporal—that took Bobby and Kevin effort, and time, and he’s given neither. But, regardless, he’s clearly a disembodied spirit.

             _Cas_ , he prays _, Cas, I’m back. Cas—_

            Cas doesn’t leave him waiting and is there before Sam can even finish the thought.

            His eyes lock onto Sam, and, with a jolt, Sam realizes Cas is carrying Sam’s corpse. At least he reattached the head. It doesn’t look like there was any damage at all, actually. Sam isn’t sure exactly how long it’s been, but his body looks pretty well preserved, considering. It’s rather morbid, but he has trouble tearing his eyes away from his own corpse.

 

            “Sam,” Cas says. He looks relieved. “It’s good to see you. Let’s put your soul back. I brought the ingredients for the cure—”

            “Gotta take care of Benny, first,” Sam says.

            “You have him?”

            “Mhm. And… he’s attached to my soul. Think I have to stay like this.”

            Cas nods. “Alright. Where is the body?”

            “Back where Dean found him,” Sam says. “His property.”

            “I’ll take you,” Cas says, frowning. “Transporting a soul isn’t easy.”

            “Gonna put me in a bottle, Cas?” Sam asks.

            He meant it to be sarcastic, and Cas probably knows that, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from lighting up. “I do think that would be best,” he admits. “Let me find something adequate.”

            In the end, he finds a coke bottle, a piece of litter.

            Sam looks at it dubiously. “How do you expect me to fit inside that?”

            “You are limited by human thoughts,” Cas says. “It’s like Kevin, or Bobby, or any other spirit. You are not limited to such a form. Focus. I’ll help.”

            Sam isn’t sure what exactly he’s supposed to be focusing on or what his focusing can achieve, but apparently Cas’ help is enough, because soon enough, his perspective shifts. He doesn’t feel in any way like a person anymore. It’s indescribable, really, because he’s just a little ball of light trapped inside a bottle.

            “I’ll have you there in a moment, Sam,” Cas says. He puts the bottle inside his pocket in order to get a better grip on Sam’s body, and then there is the unmistakable sensation of angel teleportation, and then, Sam thinks, they are on the Lafitte property.

            Cas releases Sam from the bottle and Sam looks around. His corpse—and how strange it is, to look at his own corpse—has been carefully placed on the grass. He looks like he's sleeping, really.

              Benny's grave is right there, poorly marked but obvious for what it is. "Is there a shovel?" Sam asks.

              "Let me take care of it," Cas says, and then the dirt is gone and he's lifting the mangled corpse out of the dirt, placing it on the grass. Even as he does so, Benny's body heals and recovers until it looks as whole and healthy as Sam's corpse. Sam wonders what Benny looked like when Dean found him, after fifty years in the ground, and then pushes the morbid thought away.

              Sam uses the knife he still has—it's just a fragment of a soul, not actually real, but about as real as Sam needs and it gets the job done.

              He cuts into his arm and mutters the spell, and the pain in his arm picks up and then eases off as the light escapes him into Benny's corpse.

              Benny's body animates. His eyes open, and he stands up, and, if Sam weren't merely a spirit, he thinks his knees would give out with relief. It's done. What he's been planning for months is done.

              Benny grins. "Good to be back. Hey, Sam."

              "Hey."

              "What's up with you?" Benny asks, squinting at Sam.

              "Sam needs to return to his body, preferably soon. I already healed the decomposition. I would rather not have to again."

              Sam has to smile a bit at that. "Of course. Now?"

              "Yes. This might hurt," Cas cautions.

              Sam nods. "When does it not? It's fine. Do it."

              Sam closes his eyes and doesn't open them until he's opening physical eyes. Immediately, he knows something is wrong.

              He's seeing double, his body feels like it's tearing apart, which he thinks means his body is rejecting the soul.

              His back arches. "Cas…"

              "Shh. Your soul does not match your body. You need the cure once more, Sam. I have it, here. Benny…"

              "I got him." Sam feels Benny scoop him up and hold him against his chest, like he did last time Sam went through this. "Got you, Sam. Cas has that cure and you'll be good in a couple'a days, yeah?"

              Sam opens his mouth to try to say something, but instead Cas tips the cure down his throat. He swallows reflexively, winces at the taste, and let's his mouth fall closed once more.

              He's losing track of his surroundings, of what's going on, but he catches pieces of the conversation.

              "Need to get him somewhere comfortable. He shouldn't go through this on the ground again."

              "Yes. The Bunker?"

              Benny must think about it a moment, before he says, "Sure. Get us there."

              Cas takes them and Sam whimpers at the sensation, unable to stop himself. He thinks he's shaking. He can't stop.

              "Shhh, Sam, I got you. Gonna be fine. We're here, we'll get you to bed."

              There's a crashing noise. "Cas? That you? You manage to find Sam—what the hell?"

            Sam can’t manage to work his eyes open but it doesn’t take any amount of skill to deduce that Dean has seen Benny and him.

            “What happened?” Dean demands.

            “Later,” Benny says. “Right now, Sam needs a bed and care.”

            “Yeah, uh—third door on the right, down there,” Dean says. “But you’re going to explain what’s going on. And how you’re back.”

            “Later,” Benny repeats, and then they’re moving again, down the hall.

            Benny lays Sam on Sam’s bed and works his shoes off. “Sam…you want the rest of this off? At least your belt. That can’t be comfortable.”

            Sam thinks he manages to nod, so Benny pulls his belt off, then works him under the blankets.

            Benny smoothes Sam’s hair back—that’s becoming a habit, but Sam can’t say that he doesn’t like it—and then he withdraws. Sam makes a noise of protest and tries to free a hand to reach for him.

            Benny’s back immediately. “Hey, Sam. Easy. Not goin’ anywhere. Lookin’ for a bathroom. Want a cloth for your head. Okay? That’s it. Then I’ll be right back.”

            Sam nods, and Benny goes once more. Sam starts counting the seconds until he comes back.

            He’s unconscious long before it happens.

 

            He wakes up on and off, in pain, sweating, gritting his teeth to keep from shouting out. Every time, Benny is there. There’s a cool cloth on his forehead and a hand in his hair, a voice in his ear that he can’t make out but is soothing nonetheless.

            He hears Dean, too, once or twice, he thinks, and Cas as well. But it’s Benny who is holding him and has been holding him since the minute this began.

            He doesn't know how long he's been out once he finally wakes up, beginning to feel better. But Benny is still there, leaning against the wall, sitting up next to where Sam is lying down. Benny is watching him, and notices the minute Sam's eyes open. "Morning. How're you feeling?"

              Sam considers. His body doesn't feel like it's ripping to pieces, the fire inside of him seems to have been distinguished. His senses seem human once more, and he definitely no longer has fangs. He's alive, and he's human.

              "Good," he says.

              Benny smiles. "'M glad. You hungry? You're gonna need food again."

              The idea of food sounds absolutely nauseating still, so Sam shakes his head no. "Later."

              Benny pushes his hair off his face. "Okay. You need something?"

              Sam feels ridiculous thinking it, but he asks it anyways. "Stay?"

              "Of course. Not goin' anywhere 'less you need somethin', Sam."

              His fingers start working through Sam's hair again, without Sam even having to ask. "This okay?"

              Sam closes his eyes. "Yeah." He relaxes for a moment before asking. “How’s Dean?”

              “Confused,” Benny admits. “He’s come to see you a bunch over the last couple’a days. But I’ve been…well, I haven’t sat down and talked him through everything. Cas mighta told him some, but I figure, most of it, it’ll be up to you.”

              “Wonderful,” Sam grumbles.

            Benny gently pokes him in the shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” he says. “He was worried about you.”

            “I know,” Sam says. “But he would have stopped me if I told him ahead of time. Wouldn’t have believed I could do it.”

            “Maybe he would’ve just wanted to keep you safe?” Benny suggests.

            “Probably,” Sam says quietly. “But he would have said what I said. And I’m tired of hearing that.”

            Benny’s fingers linger on Sam’s scalp a moment longer than necessary. “Well, you did it. You got me back, got you back.”

            Sam grins. “Yeah.” He knew he could do it. The plan made technical sense; everything was possible. But he’s  _done_  it, now. He succeeded.

            His stomach rumbles. “I’ll getcha some food,” Benny says, moving off the bed. Sam feels the loss of Benny’s hand in his hair, although he manages to keep his disappointment to himself. “Somethin’ easy on your stomach, don’t worry. Chicken soup?”

            “Sounds good,” Sam says, wondering if he can manage to get some more sleep until Benny comes back. For all that he’s been unconscious for several days, he doesn’t feel very rested.

            The door opens, but Sam knows Benny can’t be back already.

            “Hey, Sammy.”

            Sam opens his eyes again. “Hey, Dean.”

            “How you doing?”

            “Fine. Much better.”

            “You going to explain?”

            Sam swallows. “Now?”

            “Yeah.”

            Sam closes his eyes again as Dean sits on the side of the bed. He doesn’t want to see Dean’s reactions. “I…found a vampire. Drank his blood, changed. Had Cas kill me, then the vampire. And then…I found Benny in Purgatory, took the cure so my soul was human again, and Benny and I got out. Think you can probably guess the rest.”

            “Why?”

            Dean doesn’t sound particularly angry. He sounds like he’s trying his hardest to be calm, but Sam also knows what he sounds like when he’s minutes from failing, and this is it.

            He shrugs. “Benny didn’t deserve to be stuck there,” Sam says. “And…he means a lot to you. I could do it. So I did.”

            “You never liked Benny,” Dean says, and it sounds like an accusation.

            “That’s not fair,” Sam says quietly. “I didn’t  _trust_  Benny. And you two gave me every reason not to. But…he’s proven himself.” Sam sighs. “Guess I should have known. The one you picked would be fine.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asks, defensive.

            “Oh, c’mon,” Sam says. “Ruby, Amy…family does the dirty work, right? My judgment can’t be trusted. Don’t know what I’m talking about. But you…figures you’d go against your own rules and pick the one monster who doesn’t betray you.”

            Dean’s quiet for a moment, then says, “Well. Looks like you picked him too.”

            Sam wants to roll his eyes but resists. It’s not an apology, not anywhere close. It’s an avoidance, really. But it’s the best he’s going to get.

            “What’ve you been doing while I was gone?” Sam asks to change the subject.

            Dean shrugs. “Took a hunt in Michigan. Then you weren’t back, and something was up. So. Looking for you. That’s what I did.”

            “Sorry,” Sam says. “I didn’t want you to worry. But I couldn’t tell you. You would have tried to stop me.”

            “Damn right,” Dean says fervently. “If you had a plan, I could have gone.”

            “No, you couldn’t’ve,” Sam says. Dean might have been able to learn the plants needed for the cure, and he might have a one-up on Sam with his knowledge on the landscape of Purgatory, but he could never draw upon  _years_  of knowing how to resist a desperate craving for blood, the craving Sam gets every time they have a demon hunt, the craving he’s been resisting for years. Dean may have had a short stint as a vampire, but, compared side by side, Sam obviously had a lot more practice at the self-control it took to abstain for as long as he had. And that, really, had been more crucial than anything else while he was in Purgatory. “You have to trust me, Dean. It was a solid plan. I’m capable of doing things on my own. Sometimes, I’m more capable.”

            “I know,” Dean says quietly.

            The door opens. Benny is back, with a tray balanced on one arm. “I’ll leave you to eat,” Dean says, hurriedly getting up and heading for the door. “We’ll talk later.”

            That probably means that they’ll talk about this  _never_ , but at least he left it open-ended. “Alright,” Sam says. Just as Dean’s at the door, he says, “Dean—I’m glad to be back.”

            Dean turns, smiles, and says, “glad to have you back, Sammy. Eat up.” He leaves, shutting the door behind him.

            Benny raises an eyebrow. “How’d that go?”

            Sam shrugs. “As well I can expect.”

            Benny nods. “Good, then. Brought food. Chicken soup. Put a cheese sandwich together, if you’re up for it. Water and tea, whatever one you want more. Could get you juice, too, if you want that.”

            “I’ll take it,” Sam says, pushing himself to sit up and letting Benny set the tray across his lap. “You gonna stay?”

            “Mhm,” Benny says. “If that’s okay.”

            “Yeah,” Sam says, grateful that he doesn’t have to actually explain how little he wants the vampire to leave.

            Benny sits back down on the bed as Sam begins to eat. “Good?” he asks.

            Sam nods, taking another spoonful of soup. “It’s great. Thank you.”

            Benny waves that away. “It’s just from a can,” he says. “All I had time for. Someday, show you what good, homemade soup is.” He grins. “Told you I missed cooking. If I’m stayin’ here, you’re gonna be eating a lot of it. Hope you’re up for that.”

            “I don’t eat a lot,” Sam says honestly. Better be upfront now than have Benny be disappointed later.

            Benny looks him up and down, despite the fact that he can’t really see most of Sam, under the blankets as he is. “Someone your size? Food is important. We’ll work on it.”

            “I’m picky,” Sam warns.

            Benny is smiling again. “Then I’ll learn what you like, an’ work with it. Not that hard.”

            Sam smiles back. He can’t help it. Benny’s determination is somewhat charming, in its way.

            “Dean give you a room yet?” Sam asks.

            Benny shakes his head. “Haven’t left yours. Sure I’ll get one later. By the way—you call this a room?”

            Sam shrugs. “Has a bed, doesn’t it?”

            “Yeah, and storage boxes,” Benny says. “And the bed is practically as old as me.”

            “Nothing is as old as you,” Sam returns.

            Benny grins. “Sense of humor, I see. Okay, fine. Not as old as me. But gotta be twice your age.”

            Sam shrugs. “Just about, yeah. It’s the original.”

            Benny shakes his head in disbelief. “You need a better room. New mattress, new sheets. Somewhere else for all those boxes. A better chair. Some decorations, maybe. At least a plant or somethin’.”

            “I tend to kill plants,” Sam admits, thinking of one of Jess’ that had withered and died under his temporary care.

            “A plastic one, then. Somethin’ to make this place not look like a storage closet.”

            “Maybe,” Sam allows.

            “You can come shoppin’ with me when I buy stuff for my room,” Benny says. “Assumin’ your brother gives me one.”

            “It’s my place, too, you know,” Sam says, annoyed. “And I’m giving you a room. Pick one, any one. It’s yours. All set, now.”

            Benny looks at him, surprised. “Thank you,” he says. “I’ll look later. When you get sick of me.”

            Sam doesn’t say that he honestly doesn’t know when that will be. Usually, he tires of people after a while and needs some time to himself. But, as of yet, Benny hasn’t made him want to be alone.

            “Sure thing,” he says. Then, “Dean’s down the hall, ‘round the corner. There’s a couple near him.”

            “And near you?” Benny asks.

            “Uh…yeah. One next door.”

            “Good to know. When you’re back on your feet, you’ll have to give me a tour.”

            “I feel pretty good right now, actually,” Sam says. “It worked.”

            “I know,” Benny says. “Can smell it. You smell like you, don’t worry. But…you should take it easy, Sam. Go slow. Give yourself time. You deserve it.”

            Sam doesn’t really know what to make of that, doesn’t know why he apparently deserves to laze about in bed when he has no good reason, but Benny doesn’t seem willing to compromise on the subject, so he nods. “Okay. I’ll give it some time.”

            “Good,” Benny says. “How’s your food?”

            “Good,” Sam says, taking a bite of the sandwich.

            “I’m glad. Eat up,” Benny says. “Does that TV work?”

            “Mhm.”

            Benny gets up and looks around for the remote, finding it quickly enough and turning the TV on, flicking through the channels.

            “What do you like?” Benny asks.

            Sam shrugs. “Documentaries? Horror movies? Whatever. It’s all good.”

            Benny settles on a documentary about lions and sits back on the bed. “Good?”

            “Yeah.”

            They watch for a while. Sam finishes his food and Benny sets the tray aside, and soon enough, Sam is lying down again, eyes drooping shut, not focusing on the TV at all.

            Benny scoots closer. “Get some sleep, Sam. Bet you need it.”

            Sam nods, turns on his side. His face is an inch or two from Benny’s thigh. He debates moving closer, but decides against it, instead letting his eyes slide closed and falling into sleep.

 

            Sam wakes a few hours later, disoriented. It takes him a moment to remember everything, but once he sees Benny on the bed next to him, head tilted back and snoring softly, he remembers.

            He feels even better now, aside from the headache too much sleep gives him. He hasn’t rested this much in ages.

            He wants to let Benny sleep, so he gets out of bed as quietly as possible before slipping out of the room and down the hall, heading for the bathroom.

            He uses the toilet and then turns on the shower, letting the water get nearly scorching before stepping under the spray. He takes his time, enjoys the relaxing heat in a way he so rarely allows himself. He has nothing urgent to do today, after all.

            He throws his clothes in the hamper and wraps a towel around his waist, heading back for his room to find clean clothes.

            By the time he makes it back to his room, Benny is awake, sitting up in the bed. “Mornin’, Sam.”

            “Morning. Sleep well?”

            Benny rolls the kinks out of his neck. “Mhm. You?”

            “Yeah.”

            “‘M glad. You feel okay?”

            “Good as new, Benny. Better than I have in a while.”

            “That’s good. What do you say we go to the kitchen and get you somethin’ to eat, before you give me a tour?”

            “Lemme get dressed first.”

            Benny grins. “Suppose so.”

            “You should leave.”

            “Right,” Benny says, getting off the bed and heading for the door.

            Sam pulls out clean sweats and a clean t-shirt as soon as the door is closed, tugging them on. He quickly dries his hair with the towel and combs his fingers through it before opening the door to find Benny waiting in the hall.

            Benny looks him up and down. “Ready? See what your brother’s been keepin’ in that kitchen, see what I can get together. An’ you can start tellin’ me what you like.”

            “Salads,” Sam offers.

            Benny rolls his eyes. “There’d better be more. C’mon, talk an’ walk, wanna get some food in you.”

            Sam follows Benny to the kitchen, but offers no more food options. He’s not really sure what else he can offer. Benny doesn’t press and instead begins to rifle through the cabinets.

            Benny declares the cabinets relatively bereft. “Gonna take you shoppin’, get this place well-stocked,” he promises. “For now, guess I can get a salad and sandwiches together.”

            “I can help,” Sam offers. “I’m eating it, after all.”

            Benny points to a chair. “You can sit and wait.”

            Sam does wait, rather patiently, for a few minutes before asking, “you’re so focused on feeding me…have you thought ‘bout feeding yourself?”

            “Hmm?”

            “Blood, Benny. You’re gonna need blood and unless you’re gonna tap a vein, we don’t have much here for supplies.”

            “I’ll get some, later. It’s simple, go to a blood bank, sneak in, take what I need. Just wanted to make sure you were better first. I can last a while before I really need it.”

            “Well, you should get some. Soon. Just to have it.” He thinks about it for a second. “There’s a fridge in one of the storage rooms. I think it’s meant for storing, like, meat or something, back when you’d buy half a cow or whatever. But I bet it’d be good for your blood.”

            “Thanks,” Benny says. “I’ll get some. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna cause problems.”

            “I know,” Sam says. “I trust you.”

            Benny beams at him as he sets a bowl of salad and a turkey and cheese sandwich in front of Sam. “Eat,” he commands, the forceful tone somewhat marred by the smile.

            Sam digs in, accepting the glass of water Benny offers him, and finishes his meal relatively quickly. Benny’s smile hasn’t disappeared. “Knew I could feed you,” he comments. “I’ll figure out what you like quick enough.”

            “Looks like you already did,” Sam says.

            “Well, I sure hope there’s more than sandwiches an’ salads that I can feed you,” he says. “Anyways…that tour.”

            “Right,” Sam says, bringing his dishes to the sink. “Let me show you around.”

            He gives his the grand tour, showing him everything from the front door, to the library, the computer room, the garage, the dungeon. He ends back at the kitchen.

            Benny looks impressed. “Got quite a place, here,” he says.

            Sam nods. “It’s nice. Never thought we’d have something like this.”

            “A secret underground bunker? Not somethin’ most kids dream of,” Benny says dryly.

            Sam shakes his head. “A home.”

            “Oh, right,” Benny says. He’s quiet for a moment, then, “if this is your home, how come you don’t treat your room a little more like one? Seriously, Sam. It’s a storage closet with a bed. A lumpy bed, at that.”

            Sam shrugs. “Home is…somewhere to come back to. Where you know you’re safe. All the rest of it…I’ve never done it. Someone else always did most of it, I just helped. Don’t really know where to begin. Or have much desire to.”

            “You could start with a new mattress,” Benny says. “I’m sure you’ll figure the rest out, whenever you get ‘round to it.”

            “You really hate that mattress, huh?” Sam says.

            Benny rolls his eyes. “I spent decades sleepin’ on the rocky ground of Purgatory. Even I can tell that thing is damn uncomfortable. Don’t know how you got any sleep on it. You deserve better,” he says honestly.

            Sam didn’t expect that last bit. “Uh…thanks,” he says. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m used to it now, though.”

            “Doesn’t mean you can’t change it,” Benny says. “Now…you feelin’ good enough for me to leave?”

            “Yeah. I’m fine. Better than fine,” Sam says. “Why?”

            Benny shrugs. “I’m gonna go get myself some blood. You have a cooler?”

            “In that closet?” Sam hazards. “Check. And I’m coming with you. If that’s okay.”

            Benny pulls out a small cooler from the closet and looks at Sam closely. “This wouldn’t be an attempt to avoid your brother?” he asks shrewdly.

            Sam hadn’t even thought about that, although truth be told, it would be a good benefit of going out for a couple of hours. “No. I just want to come.”

            “Want to make sure I really am gettin’ my blood from bags?” Benny guesses.

            “No!” Sam snaps. “I told you. I trust you. I know you’re not dangerous. I just—want to come.” He doesn’t have a solid reason, not one he’s willing to admit, anyways. Not wanting to leave Benny’s side for too long doesn’t seem like a good reason to share.

            Benny shrugs. “If you’re up for it, then fine. We’ll need a car.”

            “Well, we got plenty,” Sam points out.

            Benny grins. “I’m drivin’.”

            “What? They’re my cars,” Sam argues.

            Benny pulls out a pair of sad eyes, a look so egregiously out of place on a man like Benny. But Sam cannot deny the persuasive power of such desperate eyes. “C’mon, Sam. I haven’t driven in years. Lemme have a shot.”

            Sam rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine. Pick a car.”

 

            Sam manages to hold it together quite well. He’s definitely driven with worse drivers, up to and including his brother on his worst days. But driving with Benny is certainly an experience.

            “I thought you said you could drive,” he accuses, getting out of the car.

            Benny grins. “Got us here, didn’t I?”

            Sam supposes he can't argue that, although getting them there in one piece is likely more luck than anything else.

            "Alright. What do we do, now that we're here?"

            Benny shrugs. "Sneak past whoever's up front, grab whatever they have the most of, sneak back out."

            "And if we get caught?"

            "Run?"

            Sam sighs. Thankfully, he already thought this through. "I have my CDC badge," he says. "Thought it might come in handy. I can wave that around, if I need to. You just stay quiet and hope they don't ask to see yours."

            Benny grins. "Look at you, all prepared. Alright, sounds good to me. Ready?"

            Sam nods, and follows Benny inside.

            It turns out to be quite easy, to get at the blood. Benny begins filling the cooler, keeping careful track to make sure he doesn’t completely deplete the bank’s supply of any one type. Then, Sam checks around the corner, makes sure their way out is still clear, and leads the way out of the building.

            “That…was incredibly easy,” he marvels.

            Benny shrugs. “Who wants blood? Besides vampires, I mean. And vampires don’t exist.”

            Sam chuckles at that. “Need help getting that in the trunk?”

            Benny raises an eyebrow. “Vampire strength, remember? Think I can manage it.”

            “Right,” Sam says, flushing slightly.

            Benny gets the cooler into the trunk and goes around to the driver’s side, pulling out the keys. “We gotta go back to the Bunker—that cooler won’t keep it good forever. But some other time, I’m takin’ you out shopping.”

            Sam rolls his eyes. “You’re very insistent.”

            “And you live in a storage closet. Don’t think you get to judge. Beside, need to get stuff for myself—all my possessions are kinda lost, at this point. So takin’ you with will just be two birds, one stone.”

            “You lost everything?” Sam asks.

            Benny shrugs. “Your brother buried me in my clothes. Don’t know what he kept, but I didn’t have much. So yeah, pretty much everything is gone.”

            “That sucks.”

            “This comin’ from the guy who could easily live outta a bag.”

            “The library won’t fit in a bag.”

            Benny chuckles. “True enough. Point stands, though. Some other day.”

            Sam shrugs. “Alright. For now, gotta get that blood home.”

            Benny’s driving is just as bad on the way back, but they make it back in one piece.

 


	3. The Nest

            Benny changes the Bunker. There’s really no better way to put it, Sam thinks. His presence simply changes everything.

            He takes most of the cooking duties away from Dean. Dean still has his nights—he seems to like cooking too much to give it up, even if Benny is providing free, delicious meals—but most of the time, it’s Benny cooking. Sam tries to tell him that he doesn’t have to—considering that he doesn’t eat any of it—but Benny just reminds Sam again and again that he likes it.

            Sam shrugs and accepts it, after a while. He’s never understood an enjoyment of cooking. For himself, it’s always been a task to get through, something to do as efficiently and quickly as possible in order to get his body the fuel it needs. But everyone likes different things, and if cooking is one of Benny’s, than Sam isn’t going to argue. Especially not since the results are delicious, not just to Dean but to him as well. Benny wasn’t kidding when he said he’d learn what Sam likes. Really, it’s the two of them learning together, Benny trying new things and expanding Sam’s horizons on a regular basis.

            Benny makes good on his promise to take Sam shopping, too. They went mattress shopping together one cloudy afternoon. The sales woman seemed a little confused as to why they wanted two, causing Sam to blush furiously and Benny to leer at Sam whenever she wasn’t looking.

            It’s not memory foam, but Sam has to admit it’s a drastic step up from what he had. It takes him nearly a week to get used to it, honestly, and for that week he sits up half the night, uncomfortable because he’s too comfortable. But eventually he starts to sleep through the night, and Benny is right. His old mattress was terrible, and this is a vast improvement.

            They buy sheets, blankets, and pillows as well. Benny picks up some decorations for himself and gets Sam to concede to purchasing a bookshelf.

            It took the two of them working together less than an hour to get the junk piled up in Sam’s room moved into another spare room, and Sam’s never seen his room so big and open. It’s too big at first, almost, but he gets used to it.

            He fills the bookshelf with some old favorites and some new ones he picked up, shopping with Benny in Lebanon. Sam quickly realizes that the chair in his room isn’t particularly comfortable and Benny helps him replace that too, dragging it out and lugging in a new one, oversized and plush and perfect for Sam to sprawl across with a good book.

            But Benny changes things in more ways than just food and the state of Sam’s room. As Sam predicted, Benny is good for Dean, very good for Dean, although perhaps not quite how Sam predicted he would be. Sure, he’s Dean’s friend, and he’s there for Dean in a way Dean won’t allow anyone else to really be. But the role of “Dean’s friend” isn’t the all-encompassing thing for Benny that it has been for others. He doesn’t buy into everything Dean says, and he doesn’t let him run the show.

            Sam tried to stay out of their way—he brought Benny back to be Dean’s friend, not his own, he doesn’t belong there—but Benny will have none of it, gets Sam to sit and eat with them, watch movies with them, anything. Sam seems to always be invited, welcomed even, at least by Benny. If Dean objects, Benny seems to have talked him out of voicing such thoughts.

            Everything is easier, less tense, with Benny as the continuously cheery, friendly buffer making things flow easily around the Bunker.

            Life goes on. It’s much the same, with the exception of Benny comfortably squeezing his way inside. Sam researches and takes care of the library. Dean continues his effort to restore their vast array of classic cars. Benny cooks.

            They hunt, and, much to Sam’s surprise, it feels like Benny has been working with them forever. Perhaps it’s the time he spent with each of them in Purgatory. Or maybe it’s just his vampire-sharp fighting skills. Regardless, Sam is more than comfortable with Benny having his back.

            Benny takes to hanging out in the library when Sam is working. Sam’s not sure what he gets out of it, really, but he comes back day after day. He usually picks up a book, but that doesn’t stop Sam from sensing that Benny is watching him.

            They’re recently back from a hunt, mostly unscathed this time around, and Sam is back to work, cataloging books and putting them in some semblance of order so he can find them for later research. Benny has a book cracked open on his lap, but Sam is acutely aware of Benny’s eyes on him.

            “You should learn to use a gun,” he says absently.

            “I got my own weapons,” Benny says.

            “Yeah, but you gotta agree shooting the shifter with a silver bullet would’ve been a hell of a lot easier than tearing his throat out.”

            Sam looks up just in time to see Benny bare his teeth in a smirk. “I don’t know,” he says. “Kinda like tearin’ out throats sometimes.”

            “You should learn,” Sam says, then shrugs. “If you want to. Not like we don’t have plenty of guns and a damn shooting range.”

            Benny makes a noncommittal grunt. “Maybe sometime. For now, I’m good tearin’ out throats and rippin’ off heads.”

            Sam can’t help but chuckle at the casual way he says it. “Fair enough. You do well on a hunt.”

            “Damn right,” Benny says. “Vampire, remember? We protect our nests.”

            “You don’t have a nest,” Sam objects, flipping through the book once more, frowning at the worst of the wear.

            “Sure I do,” Benny says. “Small one, give it that. Two knuckle-brained hunters and an occasional angel. But it’s still nest.”

            “Really? We…count?”

            Benny shrugs. “Nest is like family. So…yeah. This is my nest. Probably why things were so hard last time I was up here…vampires aren’t meant to live without the nest.”

            Sam nods, thinking on it. “So…nest…okay.”

            Benny shifts. “Not like you have to call it that. Just the vampire part of my brain that thinks of us all like that. It ain’t your word and that’s fine.”

            Sam looks up, thoughtful. “Not a bad word. I mean, not gonna go spreading it around…last thing we need, the hunter community to hear us using it. But…works as well as anything else.” He realizes something. “Vampire nests…they have leaders, don’t they?”

            “Well, yeah. Every one I’ve seen. But don’t think they have to. Usually, it’s the one who started turnin’ the others. We’re mostly loyal to our creators, right? But we get along just fine without one.” He looks at Sam shrewdly. “We don’t have one, Sam. Somethin’ ‘bout Dean worries you, I know. But this is a democracy, right? It ain’t a dictatorship.”

            Sam smiles at the inadvertent joke. “Not anymore, I guess,” he says. Benny is still looking at him, so Sam keeps speaking. “Dean and I, we’ve been in this holding pattern, for years. Not as ugly as it was, once. Back when he actually called himself a dictator. But not that much better. Me dancing around, making sure it doesn’t get bad again, him…trying to stop himself from getting that bad. I think you’re helping,” he admits. “It’s felt…better…since you’ve been back.”

            Benny nods. “Nest only works if all the members work together. If all the members fit together, too. We help each other. Or are supposed to.”

            Sam nods back. “Yeah. Yeah, I think…well, we’re working.”

            “Damn right,” Benny says.

            Sam thinks about how there’s more to nests than they’re discussing, how there’s one topic they’ve carefully avoided so far. Vampires almost always come in pairs. They mate for life, a pretty much unbreakable bond as long as they’re both alive. Benny has already lost two loves of his life. Sam idly wonders if he’ll find another mate, about what that would do to this nest they’ve built.

            About what that would do to this friendship Sam and Benny are cultivating.

            But he can push those thoughts aside pretty easily. It’s not like Benny is looking for anyone. He really only ever sees them and people involved in hunts.

            Benny stretches. “Speakin’ of nest…gotta keep you both fed.” He stands and walks towards the kitchen, passing Sam along the way.

            “Need help with dinner?” Sam asks absently, making notes about the book he’s looking through.

            Benny stops and gently squeezes his shoulder. “I got it,” he says. “You just finish this up. Eat in the kitchen tonight?”

            “If you want.”

            “I do.”

            “Alright. I’ll be there.”

            Benny squeezes his shoulder once more before walking off, and Sam gets lost in his project again. He doesn’t notice the time pass, although the way the Bunker suddenly smells wonderful manages to seep through to conscious thought.

            “Sam—Sam, c’mon, Benny says food is ready.”

            Sam looks up. “Hm?”

            Dean jerks his head towards the kitchen. “Food, Sam. Dinner is ready. Come eat.”

            “Okay,” Sam says, carefully closing the book and setting his notes aside.

            He realizes that Dean is giving him a weird look and can’t help but shift under scrutiny. “What?”

            Dean won’t stop staring at him curiously. “Are you and Benny…is there something going on with you and Benny?” he blurts out.

            “Why would you think that?” Sam asks, frowning.

            Dean shrugs. “I dunno, man. It’s just…weird. He won’t shut up about you. He’s always hanging ‘round you, an’ when he’s not, he’s doing something for you or at least talking about you. And you…like him,” Dean finishes lamely.

            Sam raises an eyebrow. “Lack of hostilities means romantic attraction? I’ll keep that in mind.”

            “Not what I mean,” Dean says. “But you…you don’t open up to a lot of people, and yet here you are. You’re close to him.”

            “Yeah, well. He’s a good guy. He’s our friend.” He hesitates a split second. “He’s nest.”

            “He’s  _what_?” Dean asks.

            Sam shrugs. “It’s what he calls us. Vampires, you know, they call their groups nests.”

            “And you call us that because…”

            “Because it works. I mean, all it means is a group that works together. A…family, I guess.”

            Dean mellows. “Yeah, well…you, who hates vampires so much, are willing to call us a nest. That says something about what’s going on, don’t you think? I mean, you hate them so damn much, and now this.”

            “I didn’t always hate them like that, you know,” Sam says. “I learnt that.”

            Dean winces. “Yeah, I know. But…you bought into it hard.”

            Sam barks a laugh. “Gee, I wonder why.”

            Dean winces again. “My fault. I know.”

            Sam shakes his head. “Not all of it.”

            “Most of it,” Dean hazards.

            “Maybe half,” Sam compromises. “You just said the words. Not like you weren’t proven right enough times for me to believe it. That’s not all on you.”

            Dean looks triumphant. “That’s my point,” he says. “You’ve got a million reasons to hate ‘em, I can get why you did. But you don’t seem to care about Benny being a vampire.”

            “I trust him,” Sam says quietly. “That doesn’t mean anything more.”

            “How many people do you trust?” Dean counters. Sam doesn’t have an answer for  that. “Well, think about it. Christ, I always knew you needed my help getting laid, but I didn’t think I had to tell you your own feelings when they’re staring you straight in the face.”

            “I don’t need your help getting laid,” Sam counters automatically.

            Dean rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s eat before Benny thinks we don’t like his food.”

            Benny has the table set and is already seated when they make it down. “You two get lost?” he asks as they sit.

            “Shut up. What’s for dinner?” Dean asks, plopping into a seat, picking up his fork already.

            “Gumbo. Extra vegetables, Sam,” he says. Dean pretends to gag. “None of that. Eat your damn food and like it.”

            They both dig in, and Benny gets up to grab a bag of blood.

            Dean makes a face. "Do you have to do that here?"

            Benny hesitates a moment, looking like he's about to put the bag back. Sam glares at his brother. "He made you dinner and you're telling him he can't eat his?" He turns to Benny. "Come eat."

            Benny takes the blood and closes the fridge door, looking grateful as he returns to the table. He rips it open and begins to suck the red liquid down.

            Dean resolutely stares at his plate but Sam doesn’t look away. It’s not like blood  _bothers_  him. He worked himself away from that reaction long ago. He’s been losing blood for the cause since he was about twelve, before that if he counts training. And blood…well, Sam is more desensitized to blood than most.

            He can’t smell it, the blood in Benny’s bag. He can always smell demon blood, sweet and addictive the minute it leaves the vein. Benny smells that every time, with every drop of human blood. And he needs it, far more than Sam ever did. But he sticks to the bags.

            Sam shakes himself from his musings before someone says something about him staring and turns back to his food.

            It’s good, very good, and Sam eats his entire portion. Despite his complaints regarding the vegetables, Dean goes back for seconds and even gets up for thirds.

            “Save some room,” Benny advises. “Made dessert.”

            “Pie?” Dean asks hopefully.

            Benny nods. “Pecan.”

            Dean grins gleefully and is the first one up to help clear the table so Benny can serve dessert.

            Even Sam has a small slice, although he doesn’t eat most if it. Truthfully, he finds pecan pie almost sickeningly sweet, although he can’t bring himself to tell Benny.

            Benny seems to notice anyways. “I’ll make somethin’ for you next time,” he promises lowly.

            Sam puts on a smile and takes another bite. “It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

            “Would help if you told me what kind of desserts you like,” Benny points out.

            Sam shrugs. He’s not much for sweets, hasn’t been in a long time. Ice cream is enjoyable enough in the absolute heat of summer. He had had a weakness for cookies, particularly chocolate chip, but those had been ruined for him forever. The lingering taste of sweet, fresh-baked cookie on his tongue as her blood had dripped onto him and the apartment filled with smoke and flames had pretty permanently ruined their appeal.

            “I like fruit,” Sam says.

            “Like…fruit pie? Fruit cobbler? I can do those,” Benny says.

            Sam shrugs. “No. Like…fruit.”

            “Not a dessert,” Dean butts in. “But you’ve always been a weird one.” There’s no heat behind the words, nothing more than brotherly teasing, and Sam accepts it with a nod of his head.

            “Yeah, well. I’m not afraid for my arteries. So. I’ll take it,” he says.

            Dean flips him off and reaches for a second piece of pie. “This is damn perfect, Benny.”

            “Glad you like it,” Benny rumbles. “Sam, you don’t gotta eat any more if you don’t want it. Sure your brother can manage to finish off your piece,” he says, just as Sam is raising his fork to take another polite mouthful.

            Dean reaches across the table and grabs Sam’s plate.

            “Did he say you could have it?” Benny asks, looking at Dean.

            “Man, you just said—”

            “I asked what he said.”

            Sam intervenes. “Have it, Dean. Benny’s right. I’m done.” He turns to Benny. “It was delicious.”

            Benny shakes his head. “I’ll find somethin’ you like.”

            “Sure,” Sam agrees placatingly. “In the meantime, I have work to do, so—”

            “Yeah,” Benny agrees, pushing his own chair back as Sam stands up. “Dean, clear up.”

            “Why me?” Dean protests.

            “‘Cause you had two an’ a half slices of pie. Think you can stand to wash a couple plates. Don’t forget to stick that pie in the fridge.”

            Benny follows Sam out of the kitchen.

            “Something you need?” Sam asks.

            Benny shrugs. “Not really. Just thought I’d come.”

            Sam rolls his eyes. “I’m just goin’ through the books. Nothing that interesting.”

            “Yeah, well…” Benny trails off. “Does it bother you, me bein’ there?”

            “No, not really,” Sam says. “As long as you’re quiet.”

            “As a churchmouse,” Benny promises, and it’s only once Sam is settled at his desk that he realizes Benny never gave a reason for following him in the first place.

            Sam shrugs it off and gets back to work, and it’s only fifteen minutes later when he’s digging around under the pile of papers that he speaks to Benny again. “Hey, Benny…you seen the glue?”

            “The what?”

            “The glue,” Sam repeats. “You know, for book spines. The one that isn’t acidic so it doesn’t eat at the paper? I have a bottle of it somewhere, and this book is on its last legs…have you seen it?”

            “Sam, I promise you I haven’t been diggin’ through your stuff. I know better than to touch it. So no, haven’t seen any glue bottles. You want some help?”

            Sam exhales irritably and runs a hand through his hair. “No, it’s fine. I don’t wanna keep digging, otherwise I might rip something. I’m just going to get a new bottle. I have more. It’ll turn up eventually.”

            “Want me to grab it?” Benny asks.

            Sam smiles. “Thanks, but I got it. You just keep doing…whatever it is you’re doing.”

            Benny smiles back at Sam as he leaves the library for a store closet that is mostly organized, even if its contents are a little eclectic.

            There’s a box that contains several little bottles of glue on the second shelf, and Sam bends over to grab one, thinks about it, and grabs a second, just in case. No sense in coming all the way back over here when the first one gets lost, as it inevitably will. Of course, now he’s just risking them both getting lost in his piles of books and paper and everything else.

            He’s usually a pretty organized person. His room more than attests to that. He has to be—after all, he’s spent his life living out of a duffle bag. But his work desk has become a mess of papers. He wonders if that means he’s settling in or if he’s just getting too comfortable.

            He shakes his head to clear it, grabs his glue, and turns back towards the library.

            He pauses once he hears voices inside. Dean must be done with the dishes and have come to find Benny. Sam wonders if he should go back in or give them some time together. Benny would probably chastise him if he just left. He reaches for the knob when he hears what Dean is saying.

            “Don’t you lie to me—I deserve the damn truth, Benny—You’ve been…different. I need to you to tell me—”

            Sam flinches back. The only thing he can think is that Dean is confronting Benny about his drinking habits, that Benny slipped up. Sam didn’t see it. Still doesn’t, really. He trusts Benny, doesn’t know how this could have happened,  _when_  it could have happened. But if Dean has seen something—

            “I ain’t gonna lie to you. You’re right, okay? I have a thing for your brother. Don’t tell him. Don’t think he’s ready to hear it yet. Lemme work up to it.”

            Sam swallows accumulated spit and stares at the door, hand falling away from the knob. He didn’t expect this. It eases some of the immediate fear of something terrible having happened, of Benny drinking blood from the source, but he has no idea what to do with it, what to even think—

            “What kind of  _thing_?” Dean asks aggressively. “You wanna fuck him? You have a thing for his blood? What?”

            Benny snarls. “I think you know me better than that, brother,” he says. “And I don’t deserve that. You know what I mean. I think…I think I could love him.”

            “Sam said you called us your nest, earlier,” Dean says. “That make him your mate? Complete your happy little vampire family?”

            “Maybe,” Benny says. “If he ever wants it, maybe. He...feels like mate.”

            Dean is silent for a moment. Sam realizes he’s holding his breath and forces himself to inhale, then exhale, and repeat.

            “Okay,” Dean says.

            “Okay?” Benny asks.

            “Okay,” Dean repeats. “What more do you want from me? It’s not like…not like I really get a say, right? Sam’s life and all that. And…you make him happy, I think. He don’t like to get involved, much. Easier to stay out of things, I guess. But you…well, you worked your way into his life and he’s let you. Likes you. So…I guess, you should see what you can do.”

            Sam turns on his heel and leaves the door, goes in the direction of his bedroom. He shuts the door and sets the glue bottles on his dresser carefully before falling onto the bed.

            His brother has just given a vampire permission to  _court_ Sam, on the basis of some supposed attraction Sam isn’t even sure if he feels.

            He doesn’t feel that way about anyone, anymore, he reminds himself. There are too many dead people in his past, deterring him from making the choices that led to their deaths once again. Better to just stay away, and not feel.

            But that’s not quite true. Not really true at all. There’s no doubt in his mind that is probably  _is_  better to feel that way, but that doesn’t mean he can pretend that he doesn’t feel that way at all.

            Because he does feel something for Benny. He hasn’t felt that much affection for another person so fast in an incredibly long time, and, really, at this point, it’s undeniable that there is  _something_  there. Sam isn’t sure if it’s love. Maybe it’s no different than what Benny and Dean feel for each other, a friendship so close it’s almost brotherly.

            But he knows that’s not true, no matter what he tries to convince himself. He can’t think of Benny like another brother. A friend, maybe, but that doesn’t seem quite right, either.

            Sam isn’t even sure if he’s capable of defining these relationships anymore.

            And then Benny said that Sam felt like  _mate_ , and Sam doesn’t even know what that means, never mind how to respond to it. He doesn’t know if there’s a difference between vampire mates and human lovers, if Benny expects something Sam isn’t prepared to give. Then Sam shakes his head and scolds himself for getting ahead of himself, reminding himself that he’s not even sure if he could give Benny what’s expected as a human lover.

            There’s a knock at his door. Sam makes a grunting noise that might grant permission to enter. The intruder seems to take it as such, and Benny pokes his head in.

            “Sam? Thought you were gettin’ glue. Been gone a long time.”

            “Sorry,” Sam says, trying his hardest not to look at Benny. “I just…need a few minutes, okay? Maybe I’ll just go to bed.”

            Benny steps into the room and closes the door most of the way, but doesn’t come any closer. “What’s the matter, Sam?”

            “Not a big deal,” Sam says quickly. “Just need some time…to think…I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

            “Okay,” Benny says, and he backs towards the door once more before he seems to put it all together. “Did you hear me and Dean talkin’?”

            Sam’s silence seems to be answer enough.

            “You did,” Benny concludes. “‘M sorry. Wanted to tell you. Myself. Slowly. When we were ready.”

            “What do you want from me?” Sam asks quietly.

            Benny steps away from the door but doesn’t approach the bed. Sam can’t tell if this is a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, having this conversation with Benny right there could be uncomfortable. On the other, Benny’s presence is comforting, and Sam could use some of that right about now.

            “Sam. If what we got, right now, is all you want, then I’m happy.”

            “Benny…”

            “I’m serious,” Benny says, and Sam hears him take a step closer. He looks over, landing about halfway up Benny’s chest, still not ready to look him in the eyes. “If this is all you want, then that’s fine. I’ll be happy.”

            “But…”

            Sam can see Benny’s shoulders shrug. “I want more. Not gonna lie to you. I do. But if it ain’t what you want, that’s fine, Sam.”

            “I don’t know what I want,” Sam admits. “I don’t know...it’s been a long time, and I…just, don’t, anymore…”

            “That’s okay,” Benny says. “You have as long as you need to figure it out.”

            “Thank you,” Sam says quietly.

            “Don’ thank me for that,” Benny says. “It ain’t a gift. You get to make your own choice, whatever it is. You want me to go?” he asks.

            Sam considers it. Benny should leave, so Sam can think about this, because he knows full well he won’t be able to do that with Benny in the room. But he doesn’t want to be alone. More specifically, he wants to be with Benny. “No. Stay?”

            “Course,” Benny says. “Mind if I sit?”

            Sam sits up and moves over, making room. Benny sits next to him, and they both rest against the headboard. Sam flips on the TV, searching the channels for something worthwhile.

            He doesn’t even really pay attention to what they settle on, some sports game with fast-paced commentary.

            He’s not watching the screen. He’s not looking directly at Benny, either, but his attention is far more focused on the vampire than it is on the game. Benny is so far away. It’s less than six inches, really, but it feels like an unbridgeable gap.

            Before he can really think about it, he scoots closer, then closer still, until their sides are brushing.

            “Uh…Sam…” Benny begins.

            Sam shakes his head. “Don’t…don’t ask? I don’t know. Is…is it okay?”

            Benny nods. “Course it is, Sam. Yeah. More than okay. Whatever you want.” He drapes an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Is this okay?”

            Benny’s not warm but the weight of his arm is reassuring, soothing in a way Sam so rarely experiences. “Yeah,” Sam says. “It’s okay.”

            Benny strokes his thumb along Sam’s upper arm. “Okay,” he says.

            Benny seems to turn back to the TV. Sam tunes out, focuses on the feeling of being close to Benny, of being held and touched.

            Eventually, his eyes grow heavy, but that’s okay. He doesn’t need to see anyways—he hasn’t been looking since Benny sat down. Just feeling.

            He thinks his head falls onto Benny’s chest as he’s falling asleep. That might just be a dream, though.

            And Benny whispering good night and stroking Sam’s hair is more than likely a dream as well.

 

            Sam wakes up the next morning feeling better rested than he has is weeks. He can’t quite figure out why right away, but then he realizes that that’s a chest, not a pillow, beneath his head, and an arm draped over his body. He’s in Benny’s arms, exactly how he fell asleep, for the most part, except now they’re laying down and Benny too is asleep.

            He freezes and holds very still. He’s sure there’s a reason why this is a problem, although for the life of him he can’t think of what it is, at that moment. Benny feels good. Cool to the touch, soothing. Steadying. Calm. There.

            Benny seems to still be asleep, chest rising and falling beneath Sam’s head. Sam doesn’t want to wake him up, because that would bring the ensuing awkward moment all the sooner, although Sam is aware enough to know it will have to come eventually. Benny won’t sleep forever.

            It’s not the first time Sam’s woken up in Benny’s arms, and it felt good those times too, he vaguely remembers. But it is the first time that neither of them have the excuse of Sam with some debilitating, painful, horrifying condition acting as a catalyst. No, no excuses this time. This is simply because Benny wants Sam and Sam…may want him back.

            Sam sighs. It’s too early to think about that. Too early to parse through his own unknown and unexplainable feelings, to try to decide what he even wants. Now is not the time to figure this out.

            Of course, he doesn’t know when that time will be. A portion of his brain suggests never, but that’s not fair to Benny who has been nothing but kind to Sam. If Sam can’t be what Benny wants, then Benny deserves to know. If by some miracle Sam decides they can make this work, then Benny deserves to know. What he doesn’t deserve is to be made to wait indefinitely, which means Sam has to figure this out, and soon.

            Benny groans. “You need to calm down, Sam,” he says groggily. “Nothin’ to be so worried ‘bout, this early.”

            Sam blinks in surprise. “How did you…” he begins.

            Benny rubs his hand over Sam’s bicep. “Your blood pressure, Sugar.” Sam flushes a bit and Benny can probably sense that too, because he says, “what?”

            “You, uh, called me…”

            “Oh,” Benny says. “Sorry. I won’t do it again.”

            “I don’t think…that I didn’t like it,” Sam admits quietly. “I, uh…”

            “I can keep using it, if you like,” Benny offers. “Sometimes. When we’re alone, if that helps. An’ you tell me to stop, if you change your mind.”

            Sam nods. “Okay. I, uh…thank you.”

            Benny groans. “Please stop thankin’ me for this stuff. Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for.”

            Sam shrugs. “You…being you…nice, and patient, and…and caring…seems pretty nice to me.”

            Benny moves his hand to stroke through Sam’s hair. “I swear, Sam, however you want me—a friend, somethin’ else, whatever—I’ll always treat you like that. Better than that.”

            They’re quiet for a minute, then Sam begins to pull away. “I should get up,” he says.

            Benny doesn’t stop stroking his hair. “Do you have anythin’ you absolutely have to do today, Sugar?”

            Sam considers it. “Guess not,” he says.

            Benny finally removes his arm from around Sam, and Sam pretends he doesn’t notice how he immediately misses the loss. “Why don’t you stay here an’ doze, then? I’ll make you breakfast, bring it up. You deserve a day off, Sugar.”

            The pet name makes Sam blush again, and he’s not thinking entirely clearly when he nods, agreeing to Benny’s suggestion. Benny is gone before Sam realizes what he really agreed to, though.

            It’s not like breakfast in bed is the worst thing in the world, although he really should get some work done in the library at the very least. But what he’s really worried about is whatever else Benny has planned, because he said day off and that implies more than just breakfast, and Sam isn’t up for a day-long seduction.

            He doesn’t doze, like Benny suggested, but rather frets over what Benny could possibly be planning, what he wants from Sam, how this all could go.

            Benny returns with food soon enough, a tray with a big stack of pancakes, a bowl of what looks like fruit salad, and two mugs.

            Benny sets the tray down and gets back into bed, reaching for one of the mugs. Sam recognizes it as one of the mugs they set aside exclusively for Benny.

            “Do you mind?” Benny asks, lifting the mug slightly to show what he’s talking about.

            “Course not,” Sam says. “Thanks for breakfast.”

            Benny takes a sip and then smiles. “You’re welcome, Sugar. Eat up.”

            Sam eats his food and drinks his coffee while Benny slowly sips his blood.

            “What do you have planned for today?” Sam asks, setting down his fork.

            Benny smiles. “Sam, point of a lazy day off is to not have plans. Not do anything. Sleep if you want. Read a book, watch TV. I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

            Sam shrugs. “You seemed to have a plan.”

            “If you’re okay with me stickin’ ‘round, then whatever you’re up to. That’s my plan.”

            Sam thinks about it for a minute. “Yeah, okay. I’m good with that.”

            “Good,” Benny says. He looks over at Sam’s plate. “Eat your breakfast. You need to eat.”

            “I eat just fine,” Sam grumbles.

            Benny chuckles but doesn’t say anything back, so Sam can’t get into it with him. He picks his fork up again and continues to eat in silence.

            Benny finishes his mug and sets it aside, leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes.

            “Hey, Benny?” Sam says after swallowing a mouthful of melon. “Can—can I ask you something?”

            “Shoot,” Benny says, opening up his eyes.

            “Can I ask you….about something you said yesterday?”

            “Anything you want, Sam.”

            “Mates,” Sam says quietly, eyes closed now. “You were talking to Dean about mates, and you and I talked about vampire nests but not about mates, and I don’t know what that means or what you want or—”

            “Breathe,” Benny says gently. “It’s okay, Sam. Look. I’ll…do my best to explain, okay?” Sam nods, so Benny talks. “I ain’t—I ain’t askin’ anythin’ complicated. Look…nest just means family, right? Same thing, different words. Mate is just…you know, partner. Lover. Whatever. It ain’t somethin’ temporary. It’s like a marriage. And it’s not somethin’ I’m askin’ of you.”

            “You said…” Sam begins.

            “I know what I said,” Benny interrupts. “You do. You feel like you could be my mate. But that ain’t somethin’ I’m gonna ask for today. Not a decision we have to make right now, or any time in the near future.”

            “Can you even…is it possible for you to casually date?” Sam asks.

            Benny is silent for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Never tried it. May not be.”

            “So, what? You feel like I’m your mate, like this is it for you, forever, and then…what if I can’t, Benny? I mean, what if you’re stuck and I just  _can’t?”_

            Benny shrugs. “Then you can’t, Sam. I’m not gonna force you to be with me. There’s nothing wrong with bein’ friends.”

            “I’m not worried about  _me,_  Benny, I’m worried about  _you,”_  Sam says.

            “Don’t be,” Benny says. “I’ll be just fine.”

            “You’d be…”

            Benny shrugs. “Like any other person in love with someone who can’t return their feelings. Happy to be your friend. That’s all.”

            Sam knows that isn’t all, knows they could be setting Benny up for a life of misery if this goes wrong. Maybe they already have. Sam wonders when that “mate” bond cements, when it becomes irrevocable. Do vampires have crushes? Do they get to go on a couple dates, make sure things will work out, before they become bound to each other for life?

            “You deserve a better mate,” Sam says. “So, maybe we should stop this before it goes any further. Before—before you get so attached you can’t back out. And go find someone else.”

            “And what exactly makes you not good enough?” Benny asks, voice rumbling from low in his chest.

            Sam shrugs, not wanting to get into listing a litany of faults. “Benny—I’m serious. I’m not sure if I can do this. Don’t you think you should pick someone with a little more certainty? Who knows what they’re doing? Who—who isn’t pretty much guaranteed to mess this up?”

            Benny moves across the bed, closes the last few inches between them, and wraps an arm around Sam’s back again. “Wish you wouldn’t talk like that. You’re not messin’ anything up. An’—here’s the thing, Sam. I ain’t pickin’ anyone. It’s feelings, see? I have feelings for you. I didn’t pick that. An’ I’m not willin’ to give them up, even if I could. But I can’t. Feelings don’t work like that.”

            Sam laughs hollowly. He knows. He more than knows. It would be easier if they did. He has iron-clad proof of that.

            Benny takes a deep breath. “You don’t havta make any decisions today. I mean it. Think ‘bout it. Take your time. Decide whatever you want, whenever you’re ready. Just…keep that in mind, yeah?”

            Sam nods. They sit in silence for a little bit, and Sam finishes his food.

            “What do you want to do today?” Benny asks as he sets the tray aside.

            Sam thinks for a moment, wonders if he should make an excuse to leave. To think. But he told Benny he doesn’t mind him here and that’s the truth.

            He grabs a book off his nightstand. “You want one?” he asks.

            Benny nods, so Sam hands him one at random, then picks up one for himself, and opens it to where the bookmark was shoved in.

            He spends more time thinking that reading. He’s pretty sure Benny spends more time watching him than reading, so he guesses neither of them are strictly doing what they said they would.

 

            Sam’s new research project sneaks up on him by surprise.

            It’s not a total surprise, of course. He can trace his logic of arriving at that point. He’s been thinking about mates, and being Benny’s mate, a lot recently.

            He’s pretty much accepted that he’s Benny’s mate. If Benny already feels something for Sam, then it might already be too late. Sam can’t really find any hard evidence about how vampiric mating works. But it’s more than just Benny’s potential feelings. There’s something there, between him and Benny. He knows it, and has accepted it as best he can. He just doesn’t know what to do with that information, and he has a feeling his brain isn’t going to let him leave it alone until he figures it out.

            So, he’s thinking about the concept of mates while cataloguing and maintaining the library one day when it really starts to hit him. He and Benny are mates. Vampires mate for life.

            Sam is going to die one day. There’s no knowing when, although sooner rather than later seems likely, but it’s going to happen.

            And then Benny will be alone, walking the Earth once more. Because Benny is practically immortal, until a hunter or a monster or something else gets at him, and manages to kill him.

            And then Benny is doomed back to Purgatory, where Sam just expended a great deal of effort to remove him from. The thought of Benny going back there again makes Sam feel a little sick.

            If Sam  _did_  figure this all out, this thing with them and mates, and they spent however long Sam has left together, and, whenever Benny’s time comes again, and he ends up in  _Purgatory_ …the idea is repulsive.

            And if anyone has the answer, it will be in one of these books. That’s almost a guarantee, considering the wealth of information—much of it entirely unique—the Men of Letters managed to cobble together. And if it isn’t here, well—Sam doesn’t give up easily. He has the rest of his life, however long that might be, to search for what he needs.

            It’s the type of research project that starts to take over, a little bit. He lets Benny drag him away for meals and he goes to bed when Dean or Benny or Cas remind him to, but the nagging thought that none of them really knows how long they’ll survive sits in his mind. He could be dead tomorrow, Benny’s last chance gone, or Benny could die and be sent right back to Purgatory, where he absolutely doesn’t belong. He needs to solve this, figure it out, before it’s too late.

            So he digs, and digs. Cataloguing and maintaining the library gets put on the backburner. He’ll have to set this aside if a hunt comes up, but right now, they don’t have any jobs and Sam is free to sink deeper into the research.

            For the most part, they leave him alone, and Sam just assumes Dean warned them that he gets like this sometimes. He probably called him a nerd a few times and assured Cas and Benny that it was perfectly normal for Sam to bury himself in unexplained research on a whim, and while it’s really not as normal as Dean might think, Sam is more than happy to let everyone operate under that assumption.

            If he can’t find anything, he might ask Cas for help. Cas is an angel, Cas is incredibly old, and he might know something that can help, at least a place to look for the information Sam is after. But, right now, Sam wants to keep this to himself.

            For one thing, he doesn’t need word getting back to Benny. Not before he has something concrete, at least, because the last thing he wants to do is getting Benny’s hopes up. Sam is determined to see this through, he  _will_  find a way because there has to be one, somewhere. But if he fails, then Benny doesn’t need to know about it.

            Which doesn’t really explain why he doesn’t tell Cas. Cas has learned enough to know to keep a secret if he’s told one on confidence. Sma is pretty sure Cas wouldn’t turn right around and tell Benny.

            It feels like something Sam is supposed to do himself. And logically he understands asking for some help won’t take away from Sam’s efforts, and it’s probably incredibly selfish to delay asking just because of some stupid feeling, but he does it anyways. He’s supposed to do this. If he doesn’t find anything in the library here, he’ll bring Cas in.

            The library is huge, though, and Sam may work quickly but it will still take him a while to get through it all.

            It’s been a week and a half and Sam has made good headway, considering. He’s been researching almost continuously and he has the self-awareness to know that he’s using it as a method of escapism, but that doesn’t stop him. Maybe it compels him to keep going even more.

            This is something he can do for Benny. This is something he knows he can do. And he knows it’s somewhat ridiculous to have more faith in his ability to find maybe non-existent information than to enter a relationship, but, well, Sam knows himself. He’s a good researcher. He still doesn’t know if he has what it takes to be anything else for Benny.

            He has a whole page of notes on possible leads to follow up on, some more probable than others, and while he has no definite answers yet, he’s still hopeful that something might turn out in a timely manner. He’s just starting to debate the merits of going to bed early, high on the happiness of the three new leads added to his list, when Benny walks in.

            “Hey, Sam,” he says cheerfully. “Still workin’?”

            Sam shrugs. “I think I’m finishing up. For today.”

            Benny grins. “Good. I’m glad. You could use a rest. Makin’ progress?”

            “Mhm.”

            “Makin’ progress on what, exactly?” Benny presses.

            Sam shrugs. “Just a research project. Side project. Something I’m curious about.”

            “Sam.”

            “What?”

            “You’ve been workin’ night an’ day. It seems like it’s a little more than that. Anything we need to worry about?”

            Sam debates for a moment before responding. “Benny. It is a side project. And it’s important to me, and I want to—need to do this. But it’s not—it’s not something to worry about.” He swallows. “Promise I’m not planning to turn myself into a vampire to jail break someone out of Purgatory, okay?”

            Benny studies his face for a moment. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll take your word. Just—tell us if you need help, okay?”

            “Of course,” Sam says, and he thinks once more about asking Cas for help. When the time comes, if the time comes, he will, he resolves.

            “An’ don’t drive yourself into the ground, for whatever this side project is,” Benny says. “I’m sure it’s important an’ all, but you’re more important, you hear me?”

            Sam flushes at that.

            “I’m serious,” Benny says. “You’re important, damn important. Take care of yourself.” He pauses for a minute. “You hungry?”

            “I already ate dinner, Benny,” Sam reminds him.

            Benny waves a hand. “Hours ago,” he says. “C’mon, ‘bout time for somethin’ else. Let me make you somethin’?”

            Benny seems determined, so Sam nods. “Yeah, I, uh—sounds good. Thank you,” he says.

            Benny smiles. “Sure thing, Sugar,” he says. “You comin’, or…?”

            Sam shrugs. “If I’m stayin’ up, might as well get a little more done,” Sam says.

            “I’ll bring it up here,” Benny promises, squeezing Sam’s shoulder lightly before disappearing.

            Sam keeps reading, jotting down a few more notes. Benny makes it back rather quickly, a bowl in one hand and a fork in the other.

            “Fruit salad,” he says, setting the bowl down.

            Sam looks up. “Thanks,” he says. It looks delicious. Sam needs to figure out where Benny buys fruit, because Sam is pretty sure fruit this good doesn’t come from a grocery store. Maybe there’s a farmers’ market in the area that Benny knows about. Maybe one day he and Benny can check it out together.

            Benny slides into the seat next to Sam and tilts his head. Sam is too absorbed in thinking about the delicious fruit and where Benny gets it to realize that Benny is reading his notes until it’s too late.

            “Sam, what is this?” Benny asks, studying the paper.

            Sam shrugs. “Just my project.”

            Benny looks at the book Sam still has opened, reaching across the table with lightning-quick hands. “Sam, this is ‘bout Purgatory,” he says lowly. “Thought you said you weren’t…”

            “I said I wasn’t going to jail-break anyone from Purgatory, and I meant it,” Sam says. “But…I am looking into Purgatory. In a way.”

            “What way?” Benny asks, his eyes leaving the book to bore into Sam.

            Sam closes his eyes for a moment, thinking through his options. He could lie, but he doesn’t want to. There’s a difference between just not telling the truth and actively lying, and he thinks that’s something only weird drifters with shady jobs and odd pasts think, but he’s always believed it. It wasn’t so bad when he was just not talking about it, but actively telling a lie is different. Actively lying to Benny, who is one of a handful of people still living that he really cares about, is even worse.

            If he isn’t lying, that leaves evasion or telling the truth. Benny is determined, and Sam doubts an evasion will work, which means he is going to be telling the truth and confessing his project.

            “I’m looking for a way…to stop supernatural creatures from going to Purgatory,” Sam says. “To send them to heaven, or hell, or whatever. Like humans.”

            Benny is very still. “Why?” he asks.

            “Why do you think?” Sam snaps. He takes a deep breath. “Because you don’t deserve that. You deserve better than that. I mean, you better plan on living a hell of a long time, but, should something happen…”

            “You don’t want me to go to Purgatory again,” Benny concludes.

            “Of course not,” Sam says. “I mean, getting you out was hard. And someday…well, I won’t be around, to bust you out.”

            Benny reaches out an arm, latching on to Sam’s hand. “You better be plannin’ to live a hell of a long time, too,” he says. “I’m serious, Sam.”

            “I…well, I never thought I’d live this long, might as well keep going, right?” Sam says. He takes a deep breath. “Look, Benny, I hope to god it isn’t tomorrow, but I am going to die someday. And you’ll live a lot longer, but, when I’m gone…”

            “Yeah,” Benny says quietly. “I don’t wanna think ‘bout it.”

            “You don’t have to, really, not yet,” Sam says. “But I’m thinking about it. And I want to make sure…everything works out like it should.”

            “What makes you think I deserve somethin’ ‘sides Purgatory?” Benny asks.

            Sam shrugs. “Because I know you, Benny. And…don’t take this the wrong way, but this isn’t just for you. We’ve met plenty of monsters that don’t deserve to be stuck in Purgatory. If we had some way…This is a good project, Benny.”

            “I’m not sayin’ it isn’t,” Benny assures. “Trust me, I’m damn grateful, Sam.”

            Sam thinks his smiles must look stupid, but he can’t help it.

            Benny nudges Sam’s bowl of fruit. “Eat your food,” he says.

            Sam picks up his fork and stabs a piece of melon, lifts it to his mouth and eats it. Benny abruptly stands up, bends over, and kisses Sam’s cheek.

            Sam drops his fork. “What was that?” he asks.

            Benny shrugs. “Was it okay?”

            “I…yeah, it’s fine, okay, good…what was that for?” Sam responds.

            Benny shrugs again. “I dunno. I wanted to. Do I need a reason?”

            Sam can do nothing more that stare at him. Benny smiles softly and reaches up a hand, running it over Sam’s back. “Be right back,” he says. “Finish your food.”

            Sam has no idea where he’s going, so he finishes his fruit and flips through a book absently. He should try to get more work done but he hasn’t taken a single note, too busy listening for Benny’s return.

            Benny comes back fifteen minutes later, a blanket draped over one arm and Sam’s jacket held in his opposite hand. “Wanna come with me?” he asks, offering the jacket.

            “Sure,” Sam says without hesitation. “Where?” He takes the jacket and starts to pull it on.

            “Just…trust me?” Benny asks.

            Sam nods. “Sure,” he says again. “Yeah. Lead the way.”

            Benny grins and turns away, leading Sam to the Bunker doors, up and out, into the night.

            They walk a little ways, and then Benny looks up. Seemingly satisfied, he spreads the blanket over the ground and settles onto it. “Comin’?” he asks.

            Sam sits down next to him, laying back as Benny does. Benny points. “Told ya it was different.”

            Sam gets it then, the big, open night sky above them shining with a million stars, so different than Purgatory. They had talked about stargazing then, he vaguely remembers. It feels like a million years ago, now, Benny going on about the stars to distract Sam.

            Benny lowers the hand that was pointing and reaches around for Sam’s hand. Sam lets him, and soon enough Benny has their fingers laced together as they both watch the sky, taking it all in.

            The night is chilly, Sam knows, but he doesn’t feel cold, not particularly. Instead, his body thrums with some steady heat. Sam’s sure there are a lot of words for it—passion, joy, happiness, maybe love, maybe even arousal—but none of those come to mind first. No, what he thinks is  _life_. His body is thrumming with life, enjoying, really feeling something about being alive, for the first time in maybe years.

            “What’re you thinking about?” Benny’s voice cuts across his thoughts.

            Sam focuses back on the stars. “It feels….big,” he says, words failing him. “Open. Unlimited. Uh, promising.”

            “Yeah,” Benny says quietly. “Yeah, it does.”

            Before Sam really knows what’s happening, there’s a hand on his face and Benny’s body is blocking the view of the stars. He leans down slow, giving Sam a chance to back out. But Sam just nods and reaches his own free hand up to cup Benny’s jaw, pulling him down into a kiss.

            “This good?” Benny asks, pulling back slightly.

            Sam drags him back down. “Yes, yes,” he says, already trying to kiss Benny again, and Benny obliges. And it’s then that Sam realizes that this is his  _mate_ , and he might not feel mate like Benny does, but he certainly feels something. Something strong, all those feelings churning around inside him, all those hard to name feelings. Right now, he’s satisfied calling them simply  _Benny_ , the name he moans into the kiss.

            Eventually, they break the kiss. Benny carefully rolls off of Sam, lying back down onto the blanket. Sam doesn’t let him get far. He moves over and repositions himself until he’s lying with his head on Benny’s chest. They still have one hand intertwined, and they watch the stars once more.

            They don’t talk. There will be time for that later, tomorrow, maybe, where they can sort everything out and talk and make some of the many decisions they have to make.

            For now, they lie there, enjoying each other and the beautiful night.

            The stars, Sam thinks, have never held more promise.

 

 


End file.
